The Study Group
by Bardic Jester
Summary: Nott, Hermione, Terry, and Hannah find themselves in a study group during their sixth year. Through heartbreak, parties, tears, and sex, they discover how distant those close to you can be. And how simple things like a study group can change everything.
1. Meeting

_Author's Notes:_ This story is set in an alternative Hogwarts, in which the students of Harry's year have had a normal student's experience in Hogwarts. Quirrell is just a normal professor, and there was no Chamber of Secrets... etc. Voldemort has not returned, but his actions years before did occur. In the beginning of the story, the students from Harry's year, have just started their sixth year at Hogwarts. Enjoy!

...

Chapter 1: Meeting

The library in Hogwarts was a suffocating room. When the school was initially founded, the plans for the library did not take into account how many books it would need to house hundreds of years later. To make up for the poor foresight, tall bookshelves lined most of the floor space. The spaces between the shelves were confined; feelings of claustrophobia were common within the student body when looking for a book. The few open floor spaces were taken up with tables intended for studying students. Often only able to support a small handful of students, the tables blocked much of the walking room available. Sitting at the table required adjusting one's seat to accommodate people trying to walk by. The constant interruption to studying was an annoyance. The library was not a pleasant place to spend an extended period of time. Most people felt overwhelmed by the proximity, and the smothering atmosphere.

Hogwarts, as an old school, housed many aged books. To accommodate the fragility of the old volumes, all of the windows were covered. The coverings, magical in nature, blocked most of the unnecessary sunlight that may cause damage. A covering also blocked out any view of the outside, causing the room to feel isolated. Accordingly, the lights inside the library were dim. The lights barely filled the space; its illumination allowed those present in the library to see, but little else. Under such dim lights, reading books was difficult. The strain it put on the eyes was often too much for a student to take. The library was not a common study room because of this. Students generally took out a book, and moved to one of the other available study rooms in the school.

During the first week of school, the library was generally busy. Students filled the rows between the book shelves. Each student had decided over their summer break to read more. Before school work started to be assigned, they tried to find a book or two to fulfil their plan. Few actually read the books they took out, or read more than one. Their new found dedication during the beginning of the semester dissipating over time. Still, during the first week their resolve was firm. The library felt even more unfortunate during these busy times.

Hermione avoided the library during the first week of class for these reasons. The library was a useful place to study away from others. Its point was lost while it was busy. Plus, she would come to the library to avoid crowds. If she wanted to study surrounded by others, then she would study in the common room of Gryffindor. Luckily no professors ever assigned anything during the first week anyway. The first week was used to reconnect with the other students, who she had not seen over the summer break. And to spend as much time with Harry and Ron as she could, before the semester started to become more intense.

With a book in her arms, she should in the doorway of the library unhappy. In her sixth year, unfortunately, she could not avoid the library during the first week. Her foot rested in the entrance. She did not want to enter.

Who decides to assign an exam on the second class? It was absurd! They had not covered any material yet. She had never liked professor Quirrell, and this only reinforced her dissatisfaction. When Quirrell had announced their weekly tests, including the first week, Hermione felt sick. It felt like a cruel joke. She sat in her seat waiting for Quirrell to laugh. Instead he stood stoically in the front of the class, thumb resting on his nose.

Hermione had been told that _Classics_ was going to be a difficult course, but this was ridiculous. She had no time to read Antigone. What was she even being tested on? The plot points seemed pretty simple, but Quirrell had not even hinted at what they were going to be asked about. Was it about themes, or cultural context, or merely the content of the story? She felt as though she was starting to regret talking every Honours course. _Classics _seemed like it was going to be a hard course, as did _Advanced Arithmancy_ and the rest of them. Did she need to take all of them? It was a fools game. But it was a game she nevertheless decided to participate; a decision she was beginning to regret.

With resolve, Hermione walked through the entrance. She refused to do poorly on her first test of the year. Her duty, was to do as well as she could. Even if it meant visiting the library now. The idea felt sour in her mouth. Like she was being pushing forward, beyond her control. Though she was in control; she only had herself to blame. She was the force pushing herself forward. It was an fatal tendency sometimes.

Hermione had just finished eating her dinner. She had hoped that the library would be more empty later into the day. Instead it seemed as busy as it usually was during the first week; students apparently used their free time after classes finished to search for books. The crowd would soon disperse though, Hermione was confident. The library closed in two hours. As the time approached, people would start to feel like they needed to leave. Or at least, that was what Hermione hoped.

With her books in her arms, she searched the library for a spot. Hermione wore a white button up shirt, and a long tan skirt. Her hair curled down below her shoulders; her stature was firm and straight. She had tried to stay well kept during the first week, so that she would leave a good impression on the professors. Although marks were important for Hermione, they were not the only consideration. She wanted her teachers to feel as though she was a proper student; one who benefited from their classes. Her looks did not play directly into that, but it was a confidence boost. When she felt confident that she was proper, it was easier to imagine the teachers feeling the same way.

Most of the seats in the library were taken. Small crowds of students talked in the seats. Few were studying or reading; most used the space as a place to lounge and talk. While Hermione felt she had a more legitimate reason for being there, she was also aware she was not taking out any books herself. She could use any of the other study rooms to do her work. There was nothing essential about the library. She just liked the library. It felt more like home. Since her first year, she studied predominately in the library. Most people avoided studying there; it was a place she could be alone. Where it would only be her and her work. The most comfortable place to be.

Near the back of the library, Hermione found an empty table. The table was square, and was barely large enough to fit four chairs around it. It was isolated from the rest of the library, for it was nested within a dead end. A large window extended on one side, while book shelves lined two sides. Appropriately separate from the crowd, Hermione sat on the chair under one of the windows. She arranged her items on the table: _Antigone_, two pens, a highlighter, a notebook to write in, and a small water bottle.

Lacking dedication, Hermione sat staring at the book. She did not want to study. After diner, Ron was going to try out for the Quidditch team. Since Harry was the captain, Ron had a good shot. She wanted to be there, and support him. They were probably starting on the pitch at the moment, or talking in the dressing room. If it was not for this stupid test, then Hermione would be out there joining them. She looked down at her book, but her eyes only traced the letters. They seemed like foreign markings, completely unrecognizable. What was the point? She was not going to be able to get anything done in her current state. Dammit!

The chair across from her was pulled out. Hermione lifted her head to see Theodore Nott standing opposite her across the table. "Is this seat taken?" Nott asked. Hermione shook her head. Nott nodded understanding, and sat down on the chair.

Nott tossed his black backpack onto the table. After searching for a few seconds, he took out the same book Hermione held in her hands. Keeping the book within his hands, Nott pushed his backpack off of the table. He lounged back into his chair. Crossing his legs, he opened the book and started to read.

Feeling self conscious of Nott's presence, Hermione shifted her focus back to her book. The resolve to read was still absent; her concentration quickly shifted back to the boy sitting across from her.

Theodore Nott was a student from her year. As a Slytherin, Hermione knew little about him. They had only shared a small number of conversations during their time at Hogwarts. He was in a number of Hermione's courses this year. One of the few students in many of the honours courses.

Nott was known as a loner. He had few friends, and Hermione was unaware if any of them were particularly close. Other than Draco, Hermione had never seen Nott interact with any other student in class. He was generally engrossed in the lecture, or resting with his head down. When he did speak in class, it was generally to correct other students. Hermione had been on the other side of that a few times.

This year, Nott had come to the school with a new look. Previously, he had a pretty regular appearance. Now, he wore: tight black pants that were probably choking his legs, a black hoodie, large sunglasses and big black boots. His hair was short on the sides, while the top of his head was messy and black. While lacking colour, it was well crafted. A particular style that had been well planned. Hermione wondered what inspired the look. And what inspired him to change? She barely recognized him in their first class. If it was not for his communication with Draco, she could have easily mistaken him for someone else.

Hermione licked one of her fingers, and tried to read once more. Might as well actually do what she came to the library to do. The space they were sitting in was well lit. While the magical covering over the window blocked direct sunlight, enough light came through to soften reading under it. Any other place surrounded by shelves would be too dim to read comfortably. Since Hermione had just finished dinner, she expected the sun to set soon. The benefit was only temporary. They were in a race against time, to maximize their advantage. Hermione was unaware of how long they had specifically, for she could not see through the window. It was covered.

The two of them continued to read in silence for a number of minutes. Nott rested his head on one of his hands. Hermione's book rested on the table. She periodically scribbled notes into her notebook, highlighting passages she felt was important. Nott, who was leaning back into his chair, kept his book close to his heart. He made no attempt to write any notes. The time between them made the situation more comfortable. A silence shared.

Eventually the two of them were joined by a third. Hannah Abbot walked up to the table. Another member of their class, she held her book under her arm. "Hey guys," she said. "Studying for Quirrell's test?"

Hermione nodded her head.

Nott replied: "yep. What kind of bullshit is this?"

Moving towards one of the empty seats, Hannah answered "a whole lot of bullshit. Who assigns a test on the second day of class?"

"An asshole," Nott replied.

Hannah chuckled at Nott's words. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Setting her book on the table, she let out a deep breath. "This is ridiculous, I have no idea how I'm supposed to focus this early into the year. I was hoping to take the first couple of days easy. Just relax, you know?"

"Yeah," Nott said.

"I know the feeling," Hermione interjected. "This would be acceptable if we actually covered some of the material. Who tests people on something they have not taught yet?"

"An asshole," Nott reiterated.

"Yeah," Hannah agreed. "I like the new look Nott."

"Thanks. I think it's sufficiently punk rock."

"Yeah," Hannah repeated, "I'm surprised to see the library this busy. I know I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to."

The three of them nodded in agreement. Nott sat back into his chair, refocused on his book. Setting her bag on her lap, Hannah started to set herself up for studying. She took out a clipboard and some paper, adjusting it comfortably on her lap. Hermione, after watching for a second, moved her focus back on her book.

Hannah was one of the few HufflePuff students to take a number of honours classes. The environment of HufflePuff, to Hermione's understanding, did not foster a good study ethic. Common sentiments put more emphasis on extra-curricular activities, or un-curricular parties. Students were often swept along into the social milieu. It was hard to move against the crowd, who barrelled forward; their stampede crushing the outliers. Hannah was not part of HufflePuff's big social crowd, but she was also not separate from it. From an outsider's perspective, she knew how to moderately perform accordingly, without being dependent. She and Ernie were not in the 'in' HufflePuff crowd, but they were not excluded either.  
>Glancing up from her book, Hermione tried to steal a look at Hannah. If she was honest with herself, Hermione was a little jealous of Hannah. Hannah was pretty; overwhelmingly pretty; annoyingly pretty. Standing close to six feet tall, Hannah was one of the tallest girls in their year. Her arms and legs were long and well defined. She had a skinny shape. Her waist was barely noticeable. The natural beauty was obvious enough, but Hannah knew how to bring out her subtleties. Her shirt was tight around her chest; a loose skirt accented her small hips; her light brown hair dangled below her shoulders. It was obvious Hannah worked hard on her look. Hermione wondered what the purpose was. Was there someone Hannah was trying to impress? Or was it just for herself?<br>The two girls barely knew each other. Hannah and Hermione talked more than Hermione did with Nott, but they were generally empty conversations. Shared words for the purpose of filling time. Generally about a common class between them, or joke aimed at someone they mutually knew. Had they ever had a real discussion? Talked about something real, or personal? Hermione doubted it. She did not know Hannah's likes, or her fears. They knew how to get along between each other, but little more. It was strange to think this was their sixth year together in the same school year, but they'd never really connected. They might as well be from different schools, or from different places in the country. How distant you can be, despite being so close.

Hermione knew Nott even less. He seemed like a different person with his new look. Were Hannah and Nott close at all? Hermione could not think of a time she'd seen them together. They'd probably talked a few times, at least. There were too many shared classes for it not have happened. It was a shame if they were so distant; they would be cute. On the surface at least, they seemed like similar people. Even then, that was only conjecture. Hermione did not know. It was a guess. She did not know either of them. The only truth was that they were sitting with each other around a table. It was the only thing Hermione could be sure of: all she knew.  
>The sun must have set. Their space seemed darker than before. It was even more difficult to read the words on Hermione's page. She'd barely been able to study at all. Her mind kept wandering. Nott appeared engrossed. He was leaning far back into his chair; only two of the chair's legs rested on the ground. His head stared downwards. He kept the book close to his heart. Hannah had not written anything on her clipboard. She had motioned a few times, as though inspired to jostle down some notes, but she never made it to the page. The idea lost before it became ink. The library would be closing soon. Hermione wanted to finish her studying here, so that she could celebrate with Ron and Harry. She hoped Ron made the Quidditch team. Each letter he sent to her over the summer mentioned it. With resolve, Hermione stared back down at her page.<p>

Her new found dedication lasted only a moment.

"Hey!" Terry called from a few feet away. The tall boy from Ravenclaw waved at the table. Pushing past a couple of tables, he made his way towards the group. "Having a study group then?" he remarked. Before any of the others could respond, he continued. "Cool. Good idea!" Whoever the compliment was directed to, was unclear. Terry pulled out the only unoccupied seat, and sat down across from Hannah. "So what's up with assigning us an exam on the first week?"

"It's a whole lot of bullshit," Hannah replied, reiterating the consensus reached earlier. Her pen rested on the table; the book faced downwards. She was ready to take a break from the work.

Hermione looked down at herself, nearly caught in the moment. Her book was still open on the page. The highlighter touching the words she'd just been focusing on. They did not have much more time available before the library closed. Perhaps she could take a break, but then maybe she would run out of time.

Nott remained in his previous position, he was taking a break before Terry arrived. Nott's eyes stared down at the page. Hermione doubted he was reading a word of it. At least not at the moment. Still, his head was locked downwards. He avoided eye contact with the others. Using the book as a shield from the others. "Yeah," Nott muttered, agreeing with Hannah's sentiment. His voice with a little less confidence.

Terry clapped his hands loudly jovially. "I agree completely. It takes a special kind of self righteousness to assign this sort of thing." He took his book out of his knapsack. A moment passed while he played with it between his fingers, as if it were a new toy he did not know what to do with.

Since they had entered Hogwarts, Terry had been one of the tallest students. His short brown hair was noticeable above everyone else's heads. By the sixth year, he was the tallest student in the school. His presence was always noticeable. People became instantly aware of his existence, whenever he was near.

Beyond his height, Terry was one of the smartest students in their year. He was articulate and clear. His maturity outnumbered his age. Yet, in casual social situations, he was easily adaptable. Whether it was with the popular crowd, or with the kids who hung out in the posterior, he acted as though he naturally fit. Hermione felt like the two of them were close, but this was probably true of everyone. People felt like they knew Terry. Whether they did know Terry, was another issue.

Hermione often thought of Terry as the unofficial head of Ravenclaw. He was easily one of their most popular students. In the other houses, the Quidditch team held a lot of sway. Harry was treated like a king in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw was different. The house liked to think of itself as the serious academic house. They valued apparent intelligence, at least to the same merit as sports ability. Terry, with his maturity, and charm was one of the most outwardly smart people in the school. People wanted to be like Terry; they wanted to be Terry. He was smart, and cool: the envy of Ravenclaw.

"I feel like this is pretty easy to understand," Terry started to talk about the text. "It's mostly about the conflict between public and private spheres in Greek culture right?" He paused, leaving the discussion open. It seemed as though he had more to say, but was goading the rest of them to contribute.

The first person to respond was Hannah. "Yeah," she said, "But it's more than that though. It's not only about the clash between the different spheres, it's about who's in control of the spheres. The conflict's between man and woman, with the man's power holding a higher sway."

Hermione had found that part difficult herself. How were they to know the extent this mirrored Greek culture. There were some deep seeded cultural norms assumed in the work, which they had no barrings of. If they'd been lectured on it, then she would know more. But as it is, it felt as though they were going into it blind. "I feel as though that's definitely a part of it. What do you guys think Quirrell will be testing us on?"

Before anyone else could say anything, they were interrupted. Pince, a small woman with white hair, cleared her throat behind their table. The librarian was walking through the shelves. Her thumb was stuck to her forehead, as if she was in great pain. "We're closing up in five minutes," she announced in a whisper. A look of ambivalence dressed across her face.

Terry stood up abruptly, before the four could start to pack their things. "I'll be back in a second," he said quickly, walking towards Pince. With his long strides, he caught up to her quickly. The three remaining at the table shared a glance. What was he doing?

After a minute, Terry returned. He sat down in the same chair he had been sitting on before. Nott, for the first time since Terry arrived, raised his head up from his book. Stretching his arms across the table, Terry announced "Pince is willing to let us stay in the library for a while after it's closed. Should give us enough time to get through this stuff."

"Really, she's just going to let us stay?" Nott asked, sounding doubtful.

With a small, Terry responded. "Yep. I was not too hard to do. I explained to her our situation: that we are studying for a test and starting up a regular study group between a number of the brightest students in our grade from different houses. She would be supporting student immersion, and academic pursuits of the student body. We're such good kids, how could she say no?"

The four of them sat in silence for a minute. Terry knew how to accomplish things. He had also forced them into staying, which was longer than Hermione had intended. Admittedly, she'd barely got any work done. She could use their help. "You sure have a way with people," Hermione observed.

"I like to think it's one of my many talents," Terry continued smile.

For the next hour, they talked about the book. Hannah had read the most of the four of them, and was able to fill in gaps of knowledge about the plot. Hermione's analytic mind spoke mostly about the ways in which the parts of the plot mixed or contrasted. Nott kept silent for most of it, but would interject if he thought any claim was unsupported, or mere conjecture. Terry sort of directed the conversation. Hermione suspected he had not read any of the book; otherwise he would have a lot more to contribute. He was using the situation as a way to avoid reading it. Which was smart, if he did not have time to read it and analyze it, then direct a conversation to fill both of those lacks.

Close to the end of the hour, Hermione felt like she wanted to go and see Ron and Harry. The practice was surely over. She wanted to find out how it turned out. The progress the four of them had made in the hour was good enough, she felt. On the test, she could bullshit any gaps of knowledge if she needed. She had enough of a support to feel comfortable doing that. "I think I'm going to head out guys."

Nott quickly rose to his feet, throwing his bag onto his shoulder. "Yeah, I think I am too."

The other two nodded in agreement, and they started to pack their respective things away.

"I think this was a good meeting," Terry commented.

"It was fun," Hannah added.

"Yeah," Nott said.

Hermione nodded her head.

"When do you want to have the next one?" Terry asked.

"The next what?" Hermione tried to clarify.

"The next meeting."

"Well," Hannah thought for a second. "I have to look at some of the material for _Potions and Chemistry_this weekend. If you all are free, why don't you drop by on Saturday. Say, about mid-day."

"Sounds good to me," Nott commented, walking off.

"Sounds great," Terry agreed.

"Yeah" Hermione said.

And with that, the study group was formed. A minor happenstance, that would end up helping to define the rest of their experience at Hogwarts.

...

_Author's Notes: _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it.

The characterizations in this story are similar to my other Harry Potter story "Midnight City" (/s/7670921/1/Midnight_City). When I was writing "Midnight City" I felt attached to the characters, and I wanted to write more about them. Instead of continuing the story, which I thought I had made a good ending to, I decided to write this. Although there are some differences between the characterizations, hopefully making this feel more like its own story.

The idea for the study group was inspired by the story "O, Iniquitous Haze" by WeatherWatch (/s/7337041/1/O_Iniquitous_Haze), in which a study group between Nott, Blaise and Hermione plays a small role. It's quite good, and I would recommend giving it a read.

I hope the reference to _Antigone _was not too esoteric. If you've never read _Antigone_, I would recommend you do. It's far better than my shitty fanfiction. It can be found online easily for free.

I intend for this story to be in a longer form. There will be four parts, each told in the perspective of one of the study group members. The first part will be Hannah's. I'm not sure how often I will update, but hopefully I'll be able to get all of them done.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	2. Reflections

Part 1: Hannah's Story

Chapter 2: Reflections

I stood in front of the mirror waiting. My hair fell down my sides; the cold wet strands shocked my skin. Why was I here? What was I looking for? When I had stepped out of the shower, the reflection caught my eye. In the passing moment, I felt like someone else watching me. As if I was in a place to judge. Is that what I'm looking for? A judgement? Perhaps a sympathy. Not a sympathy for myself, but a sympathy for the way others looked: the ways others looked at me.

People have always told me I was beautiful. There was no subtleties in their words. It would be mentioned matter of a fact; as if it was not a compliment, but merely an observation of a truth. The words would feel cold, even even impersonal at times. It felt like their words were targeted at the beauty, and not me at all. Like the beauty was not a part of me, but some sort of parasite. A parasite that was not essential to me; the beauty could be anyone's. It just happened to latch onto me. I never understood the position. I never understood them.

Maybe that was what I was looking for: the beauty. I've never really been able to see myself from the outside. A different perspective could be necessary to spot it. All I needed to do was crawl outside of my skin. Peel off the little remnants, and judge the pile at my feet. I'd be able to yell "eureka! There it is! I've found it." And then sew the skin back onto my body. To be able to proudly show off myself.

I could not see it in the mirror at least. Minutes passed by, the fog of the shower dissipated. Where is it? Where? If it's not in the mirror, then is it somewhere else? I studied my reflection; dissected my appearance; pressed my hand to my breast; felt my rough hair, and I still could not find it. Did I need to dig deeper into myself, or just look into someone else's eyes. Would the beauty be there? But if it was in someone else's eyes, then it would not be in me but them. Then all of their words were lies.

"Hannah, you're looking really good today,"; "pretty as ever Hannah,"; "I love what you did to your hair, Hannah, so cute."

There was no truth to it all. Unless they were playing a different game than I. Only, why had no one told me the rules? Why was I not allowed to play?

I saw those girls in the magazines. We may share height and small waist lines, but how much more we were! How different we really looked. My hair stretched my face; the strands knotted down my back. Their arms were firm and developed, while mine were long and lanky. When I walked, there was no grace. I wobbled from side to side. Any stature or posture was implied. I was a mess.

And I could not understand why no one else could see it.

The water had mostly dried off of my skin. Cold tiles stuck to the bottom of my feet. I was in the girls bathroom in HufflePuff intended for students in their sixth year. It was just past noon; the bathroom was deserted. A small blue towel wrapped around my body, barely covering myself. Sharp movement would bring out a breast, or expose my ass. I spread my weight evenly between my legs, hoping to avoid that. No one else was in the bathroom, but I wanted to ensure I was prepared if anyone entered. It would be foolish not to.

Saturday, the day when everyone has something to do. No one thinks to shower after lunch. It was a nice private time I could fit into my day. Otherwise the bathroom became suffocating. The girls and their issues filled the space with bodies and gossip. Since there are no classes, the common room was probably filled with them. I had no patience for it then. Especially after being so self conscious of my appearance. If any of them complimented my look, I may have punched them in the face.

I brushed my hair, and brushed my teeth. Before I left the bathroom, I dressed myself in a tight pair of bright red pants and a loose tan blouse that extended down my waist. In the dorm room I munched on a piece of bread I had stolen from breakfast. I had skipped lunch; I was not hungry.

I did not want to lounge in the common room. I was not in a mood to hang out with the people who would be hanging out there. Ernie was off somewhere, I did not remember his plans. He mentioned something about going outside with some of the guys, but I had not paid attention to enough of his words. I decided I would head towards the library. A couple of people from the study group would probably be there.

In my years at Hogwarts, I had never spent much time in the library. It was a claustrophobic space, which is not well geared towards studying. Pince also made me uncomfortable. She would slide over, and ask questions in a low condescending voice. As if I was completely lost without her guidance. I'm not sure if she expected me to bow down to her superior knowledge, but it just made me wince. Whenever she came around, a shiver would crawl down my back.

The study group had occurred unexpectedly. I had just entered the library to brush up on Antigone before our test. When Terry joined us at the table, I actually found that I was quite enjoying myself. I never knew the others were such good company. Funny how close you can be to people, yet not know them.

We planned to meet up once or twice more, to help each other out on small tests and quizzes. It quickly devolved into a more common thing. In the past three weeks, since we met up, I found myself often dropping by. Generally one or two of the others would be there. Terry was a rarer sight, which was unsurprising considering his social life. Still, I would not have expected to see him there as often as he was. It was kind of nice to have a place to just drop by like that. Especially when my tolerance for HufflePuff students was low. I wondered what the others got out of it, and what Terry did too. He was such a popular kid, but he was really private too. Listening to him speak, it felt like he was telling you everything you needed to hear. But he never talked about himself; all of his secrets were locked down. It must be lonely, to be that seperate, while surrounded by everyone.

I walked through the HufflePuff common room quickly. Without a sideways glance to see who was there, I made for the door. My eyes stayed at my feet. Keeping my focus insular, I walked down the stairwell; through the hallway to the right; by the main hall; short breaths; to the library.

The library was bare. After the first week of classes passed, it became far less dense. People either got bored of the books, or found better places to study. The change was welcome; it brightened my day whenever I knew there were not too many people. I did not like being crammed in a small space. Felt like it was encroaching on my freedom. Plus, it was much easier to walk around now.  
>At the back, I found Theodore Nott leaning into his chair. The front two chair legs were off of the ground. A single book rested on the table open facing downwards. Nott's gaze was towards the ceiling. His concentration was on other things.<p>

Nott wore a tight black shirt, and skinny grey jeans. His hair was a messy clump of black. Holes allowed his bare knees to poke through his pants. Large sunglasses blocked his vision. A leather jacket was draped over the back of his chair. Punk Rock was a serious thing for him.

"Hey," I greeted, taking a seat across from him.

Turning his head downwards, Nott acknowledged my presence. He pushed himself forward; the front chair legs reconnected with the ground. "Speak of the devil," he declared confidently. He pulled the sunglasses downwards, to receive an unaltered look at me.

There I was, once more in the gaze of another. What did he see, when he looked at me? I could only wonder. I hoped he did not view me the same as the others did, but I would not blame him. I just wished someone would see past that. "How so?" I asked, confused by his statement.

"Someone was just here asking for you."

"Who?"

"Cedric Diggory."

Cedric? I repeated the name in my head. Why was he asking for me? Cedric was a year ahead of us at Hogwarts. In HufflePuff, he was one of the most popular boys. He was a prefect, and a member of the Quidditch team. His blonde hair was always well kept; his dress was neat and careful. He'd always wear a black tie. It was his person mark on every situation. He was also smart. One of the few popular kids in HufflePuff who I would give that distinction. His levelheadedness and well spoken approach to situations was an admirable quality. I respected him, but we moved in separate social circles. HufflePuff is a clique driven house, the different years rarely communicated.

"What'd he say?" I aked.

Nott sat back in his chair. "He didn't mention. Just said something about wanting to talk to you."

"What about?"

"No idea."

This was frustrating. It must be special if he went looking for me. I hope it was not about anything serious. Then again, how would Cedric have something serious to tell me? Maybe he wanted to know where someone was. But then, why enter the library to look for me? He could have been grabbing a book, and it was just convenient. Still though, who would I know that he would want to know about?

"It's funny" Nott started to talk. I shifted my focus towards him. "To see Cedric like that. I've only seen him from afar before. Never had a reason to talk to him. Never liked the crowds he was with either. Anyways," Nott tried to get back on topic, "did not expect him to act like that. Kind of shy."

Shy? Why would Cedric need to be shy? I could not image his endless confidence wavered in any way. "Was he up to anything in the library?" I asked.

"No," Nott paused momentarily, thinking. "At least, I don't think so. I did not really see him enter, but he must have come directly here. He left right afterwards too. I was surprised he even knew you might be here, or that I would know where you were. Didn't think anyone like that paid any attention to us, me." He corrected himself.

"I guess you're not as invisible as you thought," I suggested.

He laughed at the suggestion. "Maybe not. I blame the new punk rock look."

"Must be."

Nott and I continued together in silence for a while. I brought out a text book from my potions and chemistry class, but my mind was elsewhere. Cedric kept appearing before my eyes, blocking my view of the words. Each page I tried to read was filled with him; the other thoughts quickly dissipated into oblivion. There was no use trying to study in my state. I was gaining no knowledge. Only thoughts of that boy stayed in my head.

I barely knew Cedric. We'd shared pleasantries a couple of times, and attended a couple of the same parties. His words were always fleeting, as if he was trying to fill the space between us. He was not nearly as personable as Terry. Although the two of them were similar. Both were smart: academically and socially. They knew how to move around a crowd, and how to read a situation.

I had a crush on Cedric during third year, after he complimented one of my paintings. The HufflePuff art club had been displaying their paintings. I stood under mine, shy at the thought of others inspecting my work. Most people walked by, nodding their heads silently. Their focus only given momentarily; a custom of respect with little interest in the specific work. Cedric stopped though; his eyes engrossed in the picture. He stood there for a minute, with the river of the other students flowing behind him.

"Wow," he commented. His attention directed towards the work.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"It's beautiful. Amazing. Easily the best work here."

The moment was brief, but it had a lasting impression on me. I was enamoured. This was before boys started paying attention to me, and liberally giving away compliments. I started to ask around, for information on Cedric. My crush soon became common knowledge within the house. I even painted Cedric a painting as a gift; it rested on the foot of my bed. But then I became ashamed, and the teasing was too much. So I tried to kill the rumours, and end the crush.

I wonder if he ever knew about the crush. Enough people did, that it would not surprise me. I'm not even sure why I was so ashamed by teasing. The were only reiterating something that was true: I liked him. The words and gossip never got malicious. They were more like a compelling secret; a code to understand that you were in the know.

It affected me though. I remember lying in bed, fearing the others conversations. Were they talking about me? What were they saying? It was like I was being persecuted. When I decided to end the rumors, and to renounce the crush, it was a firm break. I made it known to my friends. Announced it with confidence, even though I had none of the sort. I stopped painting around then too. Never received another compliment for my work. The only times someone called something of mine beautiful, was to compliment my appearance.

I put my book back down on the table. There was no need to keep it within my hands. I was not reading it. Solemnly, I sat back into my chair; my thoughts dancing around in my head. Nott lounged in his chair. His face stern, and staring into nothing. Between us was silence. A dense field divided by the wooden table. I dared not speak. I had no interest in speaking. I did not know what I felt like. I was uncomfortable. We stayed in that arrangement for a few minutes. The silence stayed hovering in the space between.

"You alright?" Nott finally interjected.

"Huh?" I asked. I had not heard his voice, my focus was elsewhere.

"You have an agonized look on your face." Nott observed, sounding empathetic.

I must not have been hiding my emotions well. I was not even agonized, that was the wrong word for it. Confused, I was confused. Confused, and distressed by my confusion. I did not like the gaps in my knowledge. "Oh, sorry," I said by instinct. "I just wonder why Cedric asked for me."

"Unfortunately I can't tell you. Perhaps you should ask around, or find him. One of them would tell you."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"You think he's going to ask you out?" Nott asked. His voice was harsher with those words. As if he was vested in the outcome.

It was a distinct possibility. Hell, it was likely. I just did not want to convince myself that was it. Not until I talked to him. "Maybe."

"Do you get a lot of those?" Nott asked.

"A lot of what?"

"Of guys asking you out?"

"A couple." It started during fourth year. My hair grew out, and my muscles filled in. And the boys' confidence grew. I'm not sure exactly what the reason was. The first time took me off guard, as did the second. I never expected to get asked out at all. In total there were about five confessions. Some were serious; some weren't: just a boy or two who asked out all of the pretty girls. I never said yes. Why? I'm not sure. It was the only answer I could think of at the time. As if the other option did not exist at all. Or that my body wouldn't let me imagine it. A sort of deep seed, and natural repression.

"Ever say yes?"

"No," I said with reserve, almost a little ashamed of my total rejection.

"Why?" Nott continued his line of questioning.

Was he looking for an answer, or just curious? I answered nevertheless: "I'm not sure. Never seemed right. None of them were the right kind of guy. I didn't know them well enough."

"Cool," he responded backing off of the topic.

"It's not like I have unreasonable standards, or at least I don't think I do." I tried to legitimize my position. I'm not sure why. The words just started coming out of my mouth. "I just never thought they were the right kind of guy for me, you know? Like they were the kind of people who only like girls who're skinny and have long hair, if you get my reasoning."

"Do you wish you had short hair?" Nott asked. He was leaning forward from his chair. Unlike his usually lounging manner, his head was extended forward. I did not understand his interest. Why would he care about me? And especially what my hair length was.

I have never really thought of the question really. Since I was a little girl, my hair had been long. Over the past couple of years it'd grown down towards my waist. In all honesty, I did not like it very much. But short hair? That seemed like an extreme solution. "I'm not sure," I tried to respond truthfully.

At that moment, the two of us were joined by Hermione. A couple of books were held within her arms, pressing against her breasts. She seemed poorly kept. Her shirt was too long, hanging past her waist. The skirt held down to her knees. It was a mild beige colour. Her curly hair extended outwards. Yet, she did not seem to mind. Her usual smile was held on her face. Her confidence unwavering.

"Hey guys," she greeted, sitting down at the table. "What's up?"

"Hannah's about to be asked out by Cedric," Nott announced in a playful voice. He smiled. I threw a scowl at him.

"Really?" Hermione said. Her curiosity seemed peaked. "What do you mean by 'about to'? How do you know?"

"He came around here asking for her, before she showed up."

"Oh," Hermione's voice deepened with understanding. "I get it. He wouldn't know to ask here, unless he was really asking around. That's kind of cute. Was dedicated enough to ask the study group. He must really want to see you."

"We don't know for sure though," I tried to add. It might be good to ground the conversation in reality. Talking about a hypothetical was pointless.

Unfortunately, they did not agree. Hermione straightened in her chair, as if she had just had an important and exciting idea. "He must hope to ask you to come with him to the party tonight! That's why he's asking around right now, he won't be able to after the Quidditch match starts."

"What party?" I asked curiously. I had an idea of what Hermione was referring to. Now that I thought of it, Ernie had mentioned a party when he left HufflePuff in the morning. He was probably involved in some way. He always was.

"The party after the Quidditch game. It's the first one of the season. Harry and Ron were talking about it."

"Are you going?" I asked her.

Hermione chuckled to herself. "No, I'm not sure I would enjoy it. I'm not much of a party person. We decided we'd just hang out in Gryffindor instead. We'll have more fun in that case."

"Fair enough."

The conversation drifted away from Cedric for a while. Hermione wanted to focus on some of her work, while Nott and I shared words about our classes. None of the information was relevant. It served to fill the time. And avoid the topic neither of us wished to talk about. I pushed my hand through the strands of my hair. Nott pushed his thumb to his forehead.

Eventually I got up from my spot. I had done no work, and our conversation had been about nothing for a while. There were other things I could be doing, other things more important than now. At least, there was something else on my mind. I could do nothing here with my focus elsewhere. I needed to deal with it.

Sharing a quick goodbye with Hermione and Nott, I walked out of the library. I headed in the direction of HufflePuff. Cedric would probably be there. Or someone who knew where he was would be. My steps were small. I was pushing through a sea of apprehension. I knew I needed to see him, but I didn't want to. What if it was really about nothing? What if it was really about something? Both options scared me. I did not know what to do. All of the possibilities played through my mind like a theatre project in the front of my mind's eye. Although, the projections were not real. They were only dreams. Dreams of how things could be, and how I would act. They were unlike reality really, unlike it at all.

As I entered HufflePuff, I drew in a large breath. Here goes nothing, I assured myself. In the entrance way, Cedric stood surrounded by seventh years. They were mid conversation, someone was telling exaggerated story. Filled with large expressions, and flailing arms.

Cedric saw me right away. His attention turned from his friend. The expression on his face immediately changed. A small smirk grew on the side of his face. I stood frozen in his gaze. He motioned towards me. I wonder if he was waiting there, just to catch me if I entered. He did not seem to mind missing more of his friend's yarn. I did not mind either, to be honest. I wanted to see him. To hear his words. To hear a compliment once more. But not on a painting: on me. Only, this time it would be different. He wouldn't be just another one of those boys. His compliment would be real. It would be well intentioned. It would be about me, and not my beauty.

Separating from the others he said "hey Hannah."

"Hey Cedric." I greeted. "I heard you were asking about me."

"Yeah," he admitted. He scratched the back of his head, and looked towards the ground. Almost if he felt a little ashamed of his actions, or perhaps a little shy. I think I saw a little red dye his cheeks, but that may have just been the light. "Glad that kid told you my message, what's his name again?"

"Nott, Theodore Nott."

"Cool," he chuckled, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness. "Hey, I was wondering," he breathed deeply, and stared directly in my face. "I was wondering if you would like to go to the party tonight with me. It should be a fun time."

He was direct. I did not mind. "Sure," I answered. Almost before I even thought about it, the words jumped out of my mouth. As if it were an automatic response; a determined fact of my life, by the molecules running around in my brain. I didn't mind it. I didn't mind not needing to be convinced. It felt natural. It felt right.

"Cool," he responded. He sounded surprised. Maybe he did not think it would be that easy.

"Yeah, when do you want to meet up?"

"How about around 8?"

"Cool."

With only that, I walked away from him. Confident in the situation. Confident with my responses. And confident with myself.

...

_Author's Notes_: This was a fun chapter! I'm not sure I've ever written such a long chapter in the first person before. Each of the four parts of the story will be told in the first person, probably. So long as I feel like it.

There will probably be two more chapters of Hannah's part. I think it's going well so far.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	3. Completion

Chapter 3: Completion

I spent most of the evening getting ready for the party. My outfit was chosen and assembled: a tan skirt flowing down to my ankles, a tight laced green shirt that hugged my back, and a large jean jacket with its sleeves hanging down over top of my hands. I was satisfied. I think I was satisfied. But, I could not escape my mirror. Each time I tried to drag myself away from it some new anxiety would fill my stomach. A rotation of waves, brought in by the tide of panic. What if something was wrong? Did I forget something? How did my hair look?

My hair, I did not know what to do with it. Like a rebellious child, it fought not to conform. I wanted to mold it. I wanted to use it to capture that perfect look. The look I intended. My look. Each different way I brushed it, each different detail I tried, each different brooch I fastened: none fit right. If I felt at any one time that it was right, it'd only last a few steps away from the mirror. I'd quickly discover it was not satisfactory. I was not satisfactory.

I originally intended to attend the Quidditch game. The party I was going to, was in celebration of the beginning of the season. It felt appropriate I should attend. I liked Quidditch, enough. The game started at 6, but I stayed where I was. I watched my clock as the time slowly approached, and then slowly moved on. From 6 to 7 to 8, the hands kept rotating but I did not leave. My feet became heavier and heavier nearing the occasion. Then it was only my guilt I was left with. Hopefully no one was going to realize I was not there. Even if no one else was aware, I knew though, which was enough to bug me.

I pulled up my feet, bent my knees, and rested my chin on my hand. What was I doing? What was I expecting? Earlier I had walked with such grace and confidence. Why had I melted in front of the mirror? As if I was made out of a wax burnt by my own stare. I closed my eyes. This was ridiculous. Why was I doing this to myself. It seemed as though each time I tried to step forward, I had to thread myself through the needle of my own despair to reach it.

Dammit Hannah!

Keeping my eyes locked on the ground, I eventually moved into the common room. I sat down on one of the muted brown couches, hoping no one would notice me. I breathed small breaths. Students from the Quidditch game slowly started to return to the house. Each moved with a smile. Their emotions worn on their sleeves. How like them, I usually was! What was stopping me now? I rested my hand on my skirt.

Cedric entered the hall with a number of other Quidditch players. Their voices were loud and emotive. The joy was obvious. They must have won. Cedric laughed with his deep breath. The sound was soothing. I touched my lips.

"Hey," Cedric greeted, standing in front of me. I had not noticed his approach. The other players passed by uninterrupted. Cedric stood still, his attention on me. I looked into his eyes, and then quickly avoided his gaze. "Is everything okay?" he asked. My actions had not been subtle.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice almost cracking.

His smile disappeared from his face. It must have been such a contrast; I had seemed so strong and independent the last time we met. Unsure how to respond, he asked about the game. "Did you see us win? What a come back! I tried to look for you in the crowd, but didn't see you anywhere."

"I didn't go."

"Oh," he sounded disappointed.

"I'm much too cool for a Quidditch match," I tried to joke. Hopefully it would lighten the mood.

Cedric chuckled at the suggestion. "Of course you are." It seemed to break a bit of the awkwardness between us. "I need to go and change. Will you be here when I get back, or will you be too cool for that too?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." I flashed him a playful smile.

Satisfied, Cedric chased after the other Quidditch guys. I felt better after speaking with him. His obvious interest in my well being had felt good. Other than Ernie, few people cared. HufflePuff was the social house, but I also felt like it was a house of doppelgangers. Everyone had there social self, and there private self. It was only in rare occasions the two personalities would mix, and even rarer someone would like to face someone else's private side.

I sat by myself only for a couple of minutes. The Quidditch boys changed quickly, and soon returned to the common room. A small crowd had gathered of students who returned from the game, and were waiting to attend the party. I kept to myself mostly. Megan and Susan sat together on the other side of the room. Their conversation seemed engaged and interested. On most days, I would join them. I'm not sure what was stopping me then, but I had no intention of it. I waited for Cedric to return. I looked forward to it.

The group was preparing to leave the house when Cedric finally rejoined me. He said a quick apology and muttered some excuse. I did not hear it though. Zach was busy telling everyone where the party was taking place. He stood on the top of a table with his arms extended towards the ceiling, trying to get everyone's attention.

"Listen!" Zach yelled. "Do you want to hear where the party is or not?" The locations of parties were never announced until just beforehand. Only a small group of two or three, who selected the place, knew of the location. This stopped any of the Professors hearing about it, and hopefully decreasing the risk of the party from being broken up. Many of the parties for the later year students contained alcohol, and had added risks involved accordingly. The faculty generally turned a blind eye to the parties, but would get involved if it seemed rowdy or if they heard about it, so as to not openly condone it. "It's going to take place in one of the smaller halls near the east tower," Zach continued. "Harry has guaranteed the room, apparently he has a key. This is on the other end of the school, so we must move quietly, and within small groups. Understand?"

A couple people muttered different affirmations. Zach did not stay long to listen for any responses. He jumped off the table, and left the house in the first group. I turned to Cedric and asked "any idea if they'll be beer at this thing?"

"I'm not sure," Cedric replied. "Apparently there was some sort of bet between Zach and Harry Potter about who was going to win the game. Rumor has it, losing house has to bring the booze to the party. An added luxury to our victory, I guess."

We soon left the house ourselves in a group of about ten. There were only about thirty people from HufflePuff attending the party, but anymore than ten, it was believed, would make too much sound. We used no magic to travel, for many of Hogwarts' detection systems were based on picking up magic. Moving without any magic gave us a slight advantage to avoid capture.

Trying not to make noise, we stayed quiet the whole time. I was used to the process. I attended a party with the other houses at the end of our fifth year. It was the first party I was at that had alcohol. Ernie and I kept mostly to ourselves, sharing only modest words with others. Students from lower years were generally not invited to these sorts of events. The end party of the fifth year was a rite of passage into the social sphere of the higher years.

I was surprised once we entered the hall. There must have been close to sixty people there. Understandably, HufflePuff had the largest presence; if half a party with more than one house in attendance were not HufflePuff kids, people would complain about it for weeks. Even the larger parties generally was not this large though; it was a dangerous number. Sixty people could not be subtle. Harry probably told the faculty he was hosting a Quidditch party in the room, but failed to mention the details: particularly the beer.

Students from each house appeared to be present. Near the middle of the room, the four captains of the Quidditch teams were engaged in a drinking game next to a keg. Could not for the life of me imagine how they were able to smuggle the keg onto school grounds. There was some secret shared exclusively with the few who planned all of the parties. Roger, Harry, Draco, and Zach were lined up in a row, a number of red cups set up before them. A crowd cheered on their antics, as they started to down the cups as quickly as they could.

I turned my attention towards my immediate vicinity, and noticed that I had lost Cedric. He must have vanished into the crowd when we entered. I felt awkward by myself. Something about being alone surrounded by people, I was sick of it now. My confidence was slowly returning.

Without a better idea of what to do, I started to look for Ernie. I needed to talk to him. His absence had been an annoyance throughout the day. I wanted to tell him about Cedric, and my neuroses. His advice was always good. He knew what to say to calm me down, and think about my situation clearly. I would have liked to see him, but wherever I looked, he was no where to be seen. There was no chance he was not here somewhere. Ernie was friends with many of the Quidditch guys. He picked an unfortunate day to spend time with others, I could have used him.

Eventually I made my way over to a table with a couple of drinks on it. Ron Weasely leaned on it, trying to look cool. I was surprised to see him and Harry at the party, considering what Hermione had mentioned earlier. Did they change there minds? Was Hermione here? I'd never seen Hermione at one of the parties. If she was here, then I would have liked to say hello. "Hello, Ron," I greeted.

"Hey Hannah, want a drink?" Ron responded, without looking directly at me.

"Sure."

He turned towards the table and grabbed one of the cups. Ron wore a Gryffindor jacket, with a couple of patches sewn down the arms. His hair was long down to his shoulders, and he had not brushed it in a while. It looked like a red mane, locking in his face. He pushed the cup towards me, expecting me to take it from him. "It's bullshit," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, barely catching his words.

"We had the game. Harry was an inch away from grabbing the Snitch. The HufflePuff seeker got lucky. It practically jumped into his hand."

I was ignorant as to whether Ron's account of the events was accurate. A lack caused by missing the game. "That's too bad, you guys needed to bring the beer then right?"

"Harry should not have made the bet. This was our team's private stash for after team practices. Now we have to replace it all."

At the moment, I had little interest in hearing more about the Gryffindor team politics, so I brought up Hermione. "I talked to Hermione earlier today. She seemed like she was under the impression you and Harry weren't going to be attending this thing."

"I'm not sure what gave her that idea. It's not like Harry and I were going to miss the party celebrating our first game together. Hell, Harry pretty much planned the whole thing."

"Any idea why she may have been mistaken?"

"Hermione has a strong mind. She likes to think if she believes something strong enough, she'll make it come true. And she's too stubborn to accommodate the rest of us. It's either her way, or no way."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah, I'd like her to be here, but what are you going to do?"

Ron looked down at the ground, kicking his foot uncomfortably. Whether his version of what happened was accurate or not, it obviously was not a personal issue between him and Hermione. He seemed as though he wanted to say more. There were deeper feelings, and deeper meanings. But he was trapped in his situation. Things were not occurring as he wished, nor how Hermione wished. They were stuck playing a tragedy, while both of them preferred a comedy. I guess there may no be any other way to be.

I walked away from the table with my beer in hand. Ron stayed, leaning. His mane lying at his shoulders.

In one of the corners, Terry stood talking with a small handful of people. Due to his height, he was an easy presence to spot. He was a full head taller than most of the people there. Even the tallest of the Quidditch players were noticeably shorter. Terry was animated in his conversation; his hands moved in expression. The people he was talking with, mostly Ravenclaws, watched his every movement intently. Their attention consumed by his charm.

I passed through the crowd and joined them. Cedric was still no where to be seen. Who invites someone to a party and then leaves them right when they arrive? What was his intention, if it was not to spend time with me? I was frustrated. My feeling was ambivalent: this was hardly the way I wanted to be treated, yet I also just wanted to spend time with him. He was so cool, and smart, and handsome. Compared to the other boys who asked me out -who kept telling me how beautiful I was-, Cedric was a full step above them. And he was ditching me at a party. Maybe my impression was a little off.

"Hannah!" Terry greeted as I joined his small circle. He stepped forward and hugged me. I stumbled not to spill my beer in his grasp. My head rested at his shoulder. I was one of the tallest girls in our year, yet even I was dwarfed by him. "So," he paused, "what's the news?"

"About what?" I asked, confused.

"About Cedric! I dropped by the study group earlier and Hermione told me everything. Any news about it?" He asked sheepishly. His voice had a playful tone.

"That's why I'm here," I replied. "He asked me to come."

"Where is he then?" Terry asked looking around the room. Considering his height, he could probably spot Cedric if he tried hard enough.

"I don't know. Haven't seen him since we got here," I said.

Terry frowned. He wore the expression clearly on his face. With a different tone, he started to talk, his voice solemn "Hannah," but he stopped before he continued the thought. His attention shifted, leading his gaze over my shoulder. "Speak of the devil," he spoke in the same sedate manner. The playfulness in his voice gone.

I turned around to see Cedric standing behind me. His cheeks were rosy; his back arched. "Hey Terry," Cedric greeted. "How are you doing?" Cedric extended his hand, swaying. Cedric was having trouble staying balanced. His weight was continually shifting between his feet.

"Well." Terry answered, sounding forlorn rather than friendly. I would have guessed he was agitated, if someone were to ask. Terry reached forward and grabbed Cedric's hand. The handshake was a formality and brief, lacking Terry's usually personal force.

If Cedric noticed Terry's mood, he did not let it on. Instead he continued with his hand extended, a stupid smile on his lips. "Cool," he commented, and then turned his attention towards he. "I was wondering where you stumbled off to; a couple of the other guys on the team made me do some victory shots." They must have done a few, considering how quickly Cedric had got drunk. "Lets get out of this crowd for a second, I'm feeling suffocated."

"Sure." I turned to Terry briefly. "See you later Terry."

"You too Hannah. Take care of yourself ."

Cedric lead me back to the door we entered through. I finished my beer, and threw the cup on the ground before we left. We took a sharp turn to the right. The hallway was dark and silent. Someone must have put a silencing charm on the party room. Harry must have received some tentative permission to have the party there, or else it would have been an obvious give away. Cedric put his arm over my shoulder; I could smell the liquor with each of his breaths.

We arrived at a door for a classroom. Cedric took out his wand, and pointed it at the latch. Whispering something under his breath, the handle turned. Inside a number of HufflePuff students were sitting around. The desks were pushed together against one of the walls. Ernie was talking with some of the Quidditch players. There he was, he'd been hiding here the whole time. No wonder I could not find him at the party. Under one of the windows, Zach and Susan were making out.

On top of one of the desks, a number of different liquors were arranged. We walked over to the assortment first. "What do you feel like?" Cedric asked. I tried to get a glimpse at the labels, but it was a little too dark to read them without close inspection. None appealed to me in particular, so I just shrugged my shoulders. "Tequila it is!" Cedric decided, grabbing a mickey.

Away from everyone else, we sat against the wall. Cedric took a swig from the bottle before passing it to me. I did not like straight alcohol, but I was not drinking it for taste anyway. I took a couple of small sips.

"Cool," Cedric commented.

"Tell me about the game," I requested. "You know, since I missed it."

"What happened about being too cool for a Quiddich match?"

"I'm too cool to go, not too cool to hear about it," I joked.

Satisfied, Cedric started to tell me about the game. Apparently it was an exciting match at the end. People were unsure which seeker had grabbed the Snitch. Harry was the best seeker in Hogwarts, people were pretty confident he had grabbed it. The HufflePuff team was surprised to discover they had won, surprised and elated. I just nodded my head listening to his story, taking a couple of sips of tequila every once in a while.

The conversation slowly moved about Cedric's relationship with the Quidditch team. He enjoyed talking about himself. I barely needed to interject at all, or say my opinion. He could have had the same conversation without me there. The HufflePuff Quidditch team was the best in the school, with many of the best players. Cedric, while one of the worse players on the team, was proud to participate.

Quidditch was important for HufflePuff. HufflePuff had a legacy of Quidditch greatness. In the last few years, the hype was higher than normal because of Zach. He practically won HufflePuff the Quidditch championship during his first two years by himself. People thought of him as a Quidditch prodigy. Probably will go pro before finishing school, people used to say. He never played as well after those two years though; his past greatness a constant shadow on his current life. Now Zach just got in fights a lot, and was a mediocre captain. Most of the Quidditch team spent their time trying to defend Zach, and trying to stop him from destroying himself. It was a funny sort of situation.

I tried to stay out of the politics of the Quidditch team. Ernie had many friends on it, so I often found myself associated with them. Still, as was common in competitive sport, relations could go sour quickly. I liked to avoid that. People turned on one another quickly. It was better not to get involved.

Cedric continued to monologue about the Quidditch team, until one of the other guys in the room walked up to us. I'm not sure of his name, but I knew he was from Cedric's year. Maybe he was on the Quidditch team too, but I'm not certain. "Hey guys," he greeted both of us. "A couple of us are going to head back to the house. Ernie's pretty fucking gone at the moment, we should put him to bed."

At the mention of Ernie, I stood up quickly. "What?" I asked concerned. "Is he alright?" Ernie was my closest friend. If he was not feeling well, I felt like I needed to help him. It was instinctual; I'm sure he felt the same way. Cedric, following my lead, stood up as well.

"It's okay," the guy assured us. "We have it under control. He's doing alright, I think he's just had a little too much. We've been drinking all day. I'll make sure he's put to bed alright."

Cedric turned to me, trying to dispel any anxiety I was feeling. "Don't worry about it Hannah. Kenneth has taken care of me well when I've been a little too drunk. Ernie's in good hands." He put his hand on my shoulder. His fingers twitched with the contact.

"Alright," I agreed. I did not like the idea of letting others take care of Ernie, but I could not enter the boys' dorm anyway. They would be more effective at helping him. Still, I felt powerless as I was; I'm sure there was some way I could help. "Let me talk to him before you guys head out alright? And you better put him to sleep right away. No antics." My words sounded maternal, but they weren't intended to be. They conveyed my meaning either way. I was starting to feel the tequila. It was not an articulate state to be in.

We walked over to the group, and exchanged greetings. Cedric talked to the other boys, while I kept my focus on Ernie. Never had I seen him this drunk. His words were slurred; his shoulders swayed as he tried to stand still. They must have been drinking since before the Quidditch game. HufflePuff students, in the higher years, had a tradition of doing that. Ernie did not usually participate, but this seemed like an exception.

With a couple of shared words, the group of boys left the room. Which left only Cedric and I with Zach and Susan, who had barely left each other's mouths since we entered. Cedric flashed me a playful smile, which quickly turned into a more serious expression. "I would not worry about Ernie, Hannah.

"I'll try,"

The two of us took back our spot next to the wall. We continued to share the bottle. My eyes were starting to feel heavy, my thoughts cloudy. Cedric and I sat closer now, our hands interwoven. I could feel the warmth of his body, touching him. He had such a nice smile. And such nice hair.

I'm not sure if it was me or him who started the kiss. Somewhere, within the time of us sitting there, it started. His lips were thin, and blushed. My head leaned onto his. Our cheeks stayed in contact. I felt in the moment: where I was, singular; thoughtless; hopeless; worry-less; consumed. It was a pleasant moment shared. The space between us irrelevant. A sorry excuse for distance between our proximity.

But, then the moment ended. And we ruined it.

"That was great," I said under my breath.

Cedric rested his hand above my ear, playing with the strands of hair. "You're beautiful Hannah." Cedric added.

"How do you mean?" I asked, naively assuming the best in his intention.

"We often talk about you, me and the other boys. How far above all of the other girls you are. You have that special feature."

"What special feature?" I started to feel suspect.

Cedric pulled his hand from my hair. He may not have expected a demand for clarification. "You know. Like how things are just right about you. You have things figured out. You know how to look good. I feel so alive when I'm around you. Like you know just how to fit around me. It's invigorating, and more beautiful than anything else the other girls have."

"But what do I have?" I nearly yelled. What was he talking about? I don't have things figured out. That was quite unlike me. Did I come off like that? Was that what Cedric liked? This idea of me? I'm not like that! Did he like me at all? Like, the real me, not this idealization. I pushed myself out of his arms.

The look on Cedric's face was filled with confusion. "Is something wrong Hannah?" he asked.

He was no different from those other boys who asked me out because they thought I was pretty. Cedric was the same! Only, he was talking about my personality too. And as if it were real! "It's not true, it's not true," I repeated under my breath. The feeling was cathartic. I was confused. My mind was blurry. Lines crossed, which were suppose to be straight and parallel. My mouth felt dry.

"But it is true Hannah. Trust me." Cedric tried to put his hand on my shoulder, but I swatted it away.

Dammit Hannah, he doesn't mean anything by it. He's trying to be nice. I understand that. But I don't want it. I don't want this kind of nice. "Cedric, thanks for tonight, but I think I need to head back to the house." I stood up abruptly.

"Let me walk you," Cedric demanded, standing with me. Zach and Susan were starring at us, their arms still locked. We were loud, and I did not care.

"No Cedric, I need to be alone." I told him, with desperation in my voice. My mind was fuzzy, and moving quickly. There was no time to think. Or at least, it felt that way. My heart started to beat quickly. I was uncomfortable here. I needed to leave.

"Please Hannah." Cedric said.

"I know my way around the school. I can make my way there myself."

"Hannah, you're being unreasonable!"

"I'm unreasonable?" I shouted. I took a couple of breaths. "Fine, I'm going back to the party, and I want to be alone, okay?"

Cedric seemed satisfied with the compromise. He probably thought if I spent some time at the party, I would start thinking straighter.

Resolved, we walked together to the party. Cedric kept by me closely. The hallway felt empty. The space between us emphasized; our steps filled the silence. Opening the door, the sound of the party erupted from the room. Only about half of the people who were there when we left were still there. I turned to Cedric, thanked him, and moved quickly into the room. Cedric entered the party as well, probably to try and keep an eye on me. He stayed in the corner of my eye, but I tried to stay distant. Patiently I waited until someone started to talk to him. With him distracted, I made my way to the door, and left.

Fuck. I fucked up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why was I acting like this? Cedric did nothing wrong. I felt cruel. Was it the alcohol? Partly I'm sure, but I still had my wits. I did not drink so much to blind my judgement. There was some truth to the way I had acted.

Instead of heading west towards HufflePuff, I headed down the stairs. Were my demands unreasonable. Was I just the same as him? Wanting more than he could offer? Did I have a right to judge him like this? To act this way? The stairwell was cold and bare. No lights were on. I was guided exclusively by my touch. It felt as though I was in the deepest part of the ocean, where no light had ever reached. A pure and unadulterated darkness. No guide was available. I had to make due on my instincts, otherwise I would be lost. Lost in a real and deep way, lost with no way of escape. No easy answers. No easy hope.

Was it too much to ask for a boy? A boy who liked me, and not an idea. Who liked what was real, and not this 'thing'. Maybe, maybe it was. If only I could see it, if only I could see this 'thing'. But since I could not, then I had the feeling it did not exist. At least it did not exist outside of their minds. Which meant it really had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with them. I wanted me. Me. Me.

At the bottom of the stairwell, I headed east. A low green light filled the area. Sounds of different students hiding in the night could be heard. Each escaping the confines of their house. I understood. I wanted to escape too. Their little actions were only brief and inconsequential in the the scheme of things. The private spheres they let themselves in, all so banal. They'd left the confines of their house: the physical walls, but were still trapped within its grasp. The influence still covered over top of them. Even in their personal rooms. Even hiding by a stairwell, touching skin, touching lips, touching a breast, touching a pink flower, touching between their waists. Kids playing at three in the morning: playing adult alone, together.

I reached the large stone door. A deep green light emanating from below the cracks. I had to wait before it. Soon someone would need to return. The sounds of the kids hiding in the hallways was dim. Quiet moans escaped. I stood patiently for a few minutes. My left leg beginning to shake. The control over my emotions slowly leaving me. Damn, damn, damn.

Two girls approached the door. The snake crawling over their robes. Were they from the party? Or had they other reasons to be out of their house this late at night? Maybe it was their moans shared with me before. Either way, I did not care. "Hey!" I called to them, trying to grab their attention.

The two of them turned their focus to me, and approached. "Hi," one of them greeted. I did not recognize her. She was not from my year. Her face turn a deep red at my hailing. They did not expect to be caught outside of their house. Three in the morning was an incriminating time. "What are you doing here?" she asked in reference to my HufflePuff robes. It must have been strange to find me here, this late at night. It was strange to be here anyway, even if they had not found me.

"I need you to get someone for me, and bring them out here. Can you do that for me?"

The girls looked uncomfortable, unable to understand the motivation behind my request. "I don't know," one of them said timidly.

"Yes you can, don't give me that shit. I need you to get Nott, Theodore Nott. I don't care how the fuck you do it."

The girls looked at each other and nodded. "Okay," one of them told me. She turned to the door, muttered the password and entered.

Once they disappeared into the house, I sat down and waited. I did not know whether they were actually going to grab him. But I had no other option. I played with my hair; my mouth felt dry.

...

_Author's Notes: _Well, this chapter ended up longer than I intended. Hannah's story will probably contain two more short chapters. If I follow my plan at least.

This story took a little bit of a mature turn in this chapter, so I changed its rating to M. I like rating my stories M, because of the freedom it allows me. Don't expect me to write a bunch of sex scenes though. They may happen, but only if I feel like it fits the story. I've never felt like I needed to write one before, so I would not expect any.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	4. Projections

Chapter 4: Projections

"Hannah?" Nott asked, leaving the door to Slytherin.

"Hey Nott," I responded.

"What's up? Do you understand how late it is?" His voice sounded groggy. As he stepped towards me, his back arched forward. Large bags hung under his eyes. He must have just woken up. I wonder if his outfit was what he slept in: a tight black shirt, and baggy black pants with holes at the knees. His hair looked messy, and kept in a square. He was neither composed or compelled.

"Yeah I know, I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"It's okay Hannah. A bunch of the guys were returning from the party loudly. They beat you to it." He raised his arms in the air to yawn. His shirt raised over his chest, exposing his skin. The waist of his pants dragged downwards, emphasizing his shape. The way his hips lead down towards his crotch. I nearly giggled to myself. His body exposed; the intimate details shown. Nott had a good body; his smile was better.

"I'm still sorry. I know it's super late."

"It's okay," Nott repeated. His voice still rugged from waking. "What's this about anyway? Can't say I've ever had someone call on me this late before. Did you end up going to the party? Is this about Cedric? Oh God," he paused, the tone taking a more serious edge "did he try to force something? That fucker! I swear to God I'll kill him if he did."

"No, it's not like that," I tried to specify. "This isn't about Cedric. Well, maybe it is, but not in that way. He didn't try to take advantage of me. Or, at least, I don't think he did. Anyways, that's not why I'm here, I think." The words kept flowing out of me like a torrent which I had no control over. A wild natural stream I was observing without participating. The alcohol was making my thoughts muddled. I could not think straight. And I'd never been in this situation before. These were new thoughts; thoughts I was unsure of. My feelings were hard to approximate in words.

Nott seemed confused. His left eye hanged down; he was too tired for me. I was too drunk for this. "What?" he asked. "I'm not sure I'm understanding you. Did Cedric try something or not?"

"No." I said.

"Then what's the problem?"

To be honest, I'm not sure if I knew what the problem was. There was definitely a problem. I would not have acted the way I did with Cedric if there was not one, but I could not put my finger on it. The frustration started to build up. Moments from earlier in the night started to come back to mind. Cedric leaving me at the party; Terry's words of advice; Ron's explanations; Cedric's empty praise; my fucking hair in the mirror. With each memory, I bit my lips harder. I wanted to just be able to express myself. To share my feelings with Nott. Have him understand. Only, the desire just made me more frustrated. Please, please, please, I just wanted to get what I wanted, this time.

"I'm tired!" I nearly yelled. My arms dropped to my side. The knees below me gave way. Nott's face quickly changed to concern, jumping forward to grab me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders; his skin under his shirt rubbing against my arm. "I'm just tired, tired of boys thinking of me like I'm some sort of ideal. Like I'll complete them. I just want someone to see me. See me as I am." My voice began to be choked up. I actively fought back tears.

Nott stood up, holding tight on my shoulders. "It's okay Hanna. Lets move somewhere more private, and you can tell me more." I realized that I had yelled right outside of the door to Slytherin. Shame quickly came to my face. I felt like an idiot. Nott did not seem to mind. He lead us firmly through a hallway to our right.

The tequila was playing with my head. I had never drank that much. It felt as if there was delay in my thoughts. My body moved; my voice spoke; my heart beat, before I ever decided to. Almost as if my mind was working on a lag. The choices occurring after the actions. I felt vulnerable in the state. Like I was lacking control. I was happy I left Cedric, I would not have felt comfortable with him.

"You know this area more intimately than I do. I'll follow your lead." I told Nott.

Nott smiled, and started to walk in front of me. I drudged behind him; my sense of balance swayed. "I know a good place. There's a small room nobody uses out here around his time. It looks a little shoddy, but I like its character."

"Cool," I said. Nott did not seem like someone who would need a private place around this time. Maybe he was not quite like what I imagined him. I did not really know him. The last few weeks had been the most we ever talked. He seemed different this year. He was more confident; spoke with more force; looked cuter too. The punk rock look suited him well, even if he felt nothing like a punk. Like a flower trying to be edgy with thorns; he only had a slight edge now.

Although I never imaged it, I wondered if Nott was actually more than I gave him credit for. When he was in Slytherin, perhaps he was as sharp as a sword: cutting through hearts. Was this place where he brought girls after the dark? Did he make them moan? Get down below their skin? What were his intentions with me? "You bring girls here often Nott?" I asked, the words left my lips without a second thought.

At the suggestion, Nott merely laughed. His tone did not sound condescending; he responded like I had said a joke. "No," he was able to articulate within his chuckles. "You'll be the first person to join me here. I use it to serve an opposite function. Its where I generally go to avoid everyone else." A smile crossed his lips, but his joyful pitch faded. His eyes stared forward: impersonal. "There's those times when I just can't stand everyone else. When I need to be outside of Slytherin. Or when I'm alone at night, and I feel like I'm wasting my life ... when I feel wrong," His voice trailed off with the words. The drive in his voice slowly dissipating. The words sounded worn and rough; his mouth cutting through the air.

I felt sick to my stomach. His voice sounded so sincere and hurt. My picture of him had been off, only a moment before. Had I just done what I accused the others of doing? What Cedric had done to me? God, I felt like I hated myself. I slowed down behind Nott; ashamed for him to acknowledge my presence.

For what it's worth, Nott did not appear to mind. He slowed his pace to accommodate me. The room Nott had been leading us to was only a few feet across. There was a single chair in the corner and no windows. The walls were bare; a blanketing white covered the surfaces. An ugly carpet covered the ground over a floor of exposed concrete. I wonder if the carpet was Nott's, it seemed out of place. There were no emotions in the aesthetics: only blind emptiness; a dead room resting. I wondered what Nott liked about it. The room was nested at the end of a long hall, the other rooms were unmarked. I would have guessed they were classrooms, but there were no numbers on their doors. Nott pushed his wand to the room's door, but said not incantation: it must have been unlocked. Why bring his wand to it then?

Nott moved into one of the corners, and sat down on the carpet. His back rested against the wall. His shirt bunched up at his hip; a sliver of skin peeking. He motioned for me to sit on the chair. Instead I moved next to him, and sat down. A small smile flashed on his face as I chose the floor. His eyes drooped downwards, looking over my body. There was little subtlety in his gaze; the exhaustion removing the nuance within his action. We were quiet for a second. I wanted to find some words to share. My mouth felt dry. I felt destroyed; irrelevant. "What is this place?" I asked.

"It's an empty closet. Or, at least I think it is. I can't imagine any other purpose for such a small room with nothing in it. Most of the rooms in this hallway are storage. Kids from Slytherin use them for their own purpose all the time. They're pretty empty too, but they're much larger. Some are used for the Slytherin parties; some are used them as hiding places to avoid curfew. I'm the only one who ever uses this place, at least most of the time. I guess no one else has felt the need to walk all the was to the end here. It's my private place."

"That's cool. People actually often use storage rooms? HufflePuff kids generally keep to unused classrooms in the west tower" The different houses had their own cultures revolving around their location and spirit. Subtleties in the experiences were often larger than it would seem on the surface. "We have to get the trust of certain professors, to be given keys for cleaning. The keys are then generally shared around a group of friends. It's tough to procure." Ernie had one the year before; we often sneaked in there to talk about boys.

"It's much easier for us Slytherin kids. No one ever checks a bunch of the storage rooms. Don't blame them. Doesn't seem like a fun way to spend time. The basement is pretty miserably place when you don't have to check empty rooms. I could see some advantages to oversight though; people would have quieter sex that way."

My cheeks blushed at the suggestion. HufflePuff had a reputation for having the most sexually active students, but that only meant there was more supervision to make sure it did not happen. It was actually quite difficult to do those sorts of things around HufflePuff. I guess Slytherin was a different sort of house. Did the moans fill the hallways? Little fingers touching and touching. Discovering those little places where those secrets were held, and the sweat so much more personal. In rooms like this too. I felt hot next to Nott, and then embarrassed; I quickly wanted to change the subject. "Why did you press your wand against the door, if you did not need to cast a spell?"

Nott looked down at his hand, and took out his wand from his pocket. His grip barely held it, letting it fall into his fingers; his thumb stroked the base. "I was feeling the magical aura in the room," he began. His eyes looked at the ceiling. His shoulders slouched. The space between use was slowly starting to disappear, as we leaned towards each other for support. Our energy fading as the time went by. "I read in a book about it during fourth year. If you're in an area filled of residual magic, with concentration, you can feel the subtle remnants of the magical vibrations. It's tough to do, but what you can feel when you do it, it's powerful. Like listening to a great piece of music, or reading a great poem. I'd describe it as people's left over emotions: their hopes, fears, loves, cries."

"I've heard of that. It's pretty advanced magic though isn't it?"

"Yeah, I've been doing it for two years, and I still feel like I don't really know what I'm doing. Professor Babbling is helping to tutor me in it, apparently she did some work on the classical expression of it in ancient magical runes."

"That's cool, so why did you feel it now then?"

Nott did not reply right away. He touch his hand to his mouth in thought. His gaze seemed empty, as if he was looking past everything in abstraction. "This room is sort of my case study. I've made it sort of a routine to check the aura before I enter it. To see if I am able to identify any changes. I feel as though I need to do it every time, or else I'll stop."

"You're pretty serious about this."

Nott laughed to himself quietly. "Yeah, I guess so. It's what I'm thinking of studying when I leave here. There aren't any practical jobs related to it, but something about it just sort of feels right. There's some fascinating history and theory around it too, some people think it holds the secret of what magic is. I'm not sure of that, but it sure does sound interesting."

The two of us shared a silence. I could not think of anything else to add. I had never imagined Nott would have been interested in such a thing. Magical Auras were a higher level course than what was not offered at Hogwarts, so I never really experienced it. I wonder if it changed Nott's perspective at all. If he could feel things differently, what would that change?

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied.

"You always seem so self reliant. Like you don't need other people. How do you do it?"

Nott lowered his voice, barely to a whisper. "Okay, but on one condition. First you tell me what this is about. You still haven't told me why you called on me." His words were tense and drawn out. The exhaustion covered his face, but he the confusion must have been overwhelming. What had I meant? Even I did not know that, truly.

"I'm sorry about this." I answered. "It's just that," I struggled to articulate my problem. "You know how you asked me if I've been asked out a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've always turned them down, because, I don't know. Because they always seem to be in love with what they think I am, instead of who I actually am. They think I'm this cool hip girl, who's pretty, and will solve all of their problems. But I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. I've always been afraid of getting close to people, because every fucking time it turns out this way. And fucking Cedric, goddammit!"

"What'd Cedric do?"

"It's just that he's the same as all of them. Of every boy, I thought he'd be different. I've had this crush on him for so long, but I've repressed it. Tonight, he surprises me by asking me out, and all of those feelings came rushing back. And then he stabbed me in the back, by just being like all of those others. Why can't any of them see me? See me for who I really am? Is that too difficult? But also, why do I care so much? Why do I care so fucking much about what others think of me?"

"So why me? Why did you call on me, and not Ernie?"

"Ernie's passed out, he wouldn't be any help." I answered. Nott frowned at the explanation. He was hoping for something more. It sounded as though there was nothing special about him in particular; like he was only the choice out of necessity. I struggled for more reasons. "And, and, it just seems like you have it together. Like you don't need other people, and that's cool. You're cool. And out of everyone I know, you're different."

"Hannah, stop." Nott's voice sounded firm. He dragged out the last syllable, as if it were difficult to say. The words cutting into his throat as he tried to speak. "Don't say things like that. I'm just as bad as those other guys."

"Don't say that Nott." I tried to assure.

"Hannah, Hannah," Nott repeated as if pleading. Catching himself before he said any more. Like his was begging to be able to say what he wished, but was faced by some great wall. The tone of his voice descended into a weep, before it turned stern and stoic. He talked without emotion. "I've had a crush on you for a while. But I just keep thinking about how you're so cool and hip. You'd help me make friends, or stop my need for friends." His voice started to crack, as if he were about to cry. "I'm just as much of a piece of shit as those other guys. I'd only hurt you."

"Nott," I started, but I could not finish. He sounded fragile. Close to breaking down. I leaned close to him, wrapping my arm around his. I felt mean. What was I doing? I did not mean to do this. I did not want to break his heart. Was I so heartless and cold? How could any of this help?

Nott slowly pulled his arm out of my grasp, but continued to lean on me. "I may seem all calm and collected, but, fuck. You know why I decided to dress punk rock this year? Last spring i decided I would try to make friends in Slytherin. I started to hang out with the cool kids, going to all of their social functions, drinking and the like. But it was awful. I hated all of their conversations, and all of their beliefs. They were just such ugly people. And yet, I kept hanging out with them. Putting up with their shit. Cause I wanted friends. I wanted friends so fucking badly. I've been alone, in this room, for so long. For so many years, here at Hogwarts. Like I was missing out on the experience. Like I was hiding from everything. Letting years pass by, empty."

"Then on the last day of class last year Draco came up to me." Nott continued. "And he told me that I was better than those kid's shit. That I was trying to transform myself into something that I was not. Hanging out with them was not me, and that I should not put myself to their level, just in some vain attempt to be cool."

"I don't think I agree with Draco's idea that I'm better then them, but there was definitely some truth to his words. And I took that to heart. But it led to the important question: who am I? I spent my whole summer thinking about the question. There were whole days I lied in my bed, wondering. I don't think I have an answer, but I think I'm closer. I realized there were a bunch of things I was doing, not because I liked it, but because I though other people would like it. And there were other things I was afraid to do too, for the same reasons. So I became who I am now."

"Nott," I tried to start, but Nott cut me off.

"I'm not better than those other boys. I'm no different. I'm just who I am. I'm sorry Hannah"

"Nott." The words were escaping from my lips. I had nothing really to say. There was nothing I could communicate. Anything I could add would just be words, empty words. I was an empty shell. Exhausted and hurt, and hurting. I'm sorry Nott, that's what I wanted to say. I wanted to say it so badly. My lips quivered, but I could not get them out of my mouth. I'm sorry Nott.

"We should probably head back. It's getting really late." Nott said. His words were weak: about to crack. The firmness in his voice was gone. All was left, was a boy trying to balance himself on a world that kept trying to throw him down. I was on the world too, but it felt like I was falling, after trying to push him off.

"Yeah." I was barely able to say. My skin felt numb. I tightened my fist until the nails cut into the skin of my palm. Part of me wanted to kiss him, the other part wanted to cry. The emotions were pushed to the front of my face. I felt torn and stretched; the skin pulled. Pressure built excessively. My steps were only a few before a nervous break down. Keep it together Hannah.

As the two of us stood up, Nott brought me into an embrace. His cheek rested on mine. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more of a help Hannah. If you want my suggestion: try to find yourself. More than that, show yourself. Make it abundantly clear who Hannah is. Then the boys won't be able to mistake you for something else. Don't hide who you are."

We exited the room, and headed back towards Slytherin. Nott walked me to a stairwell which would take me to the main floor. I thanked him, and we hugged once more. The rest of the walk I was mostly in a daze. I was confused, and empty, and filled, and tired, and scared, and excited, and sad, so fucking sad. It only took a few minutes before I was outside of HufflePuff, but instead of entering it, I kept walking by it.

I walked into the nearest girl's washroom, and stood in front of the mirror. My fucking reflection stared back at me, with its awful tangle. I took out my wand, and pointed it at my head. I'm not sure which started to fall first, the tears or the strands of hair.

...

_Author's Notes: _Aren't those two cute? I always enjoy writing such a happy chapter! Sorry for making it so dark, I hope you liked it anyway. There will be one more chapter in Hannah's story, which will mostly serve as a resolution. I'm pretty busy in the next couple of weeks. It may take a while for me to write it. Hopefully it should be short, so I can write it quickly when I have a moment to spare.

I'm starting to think about where I'm going with this story, and I was wondering if you could give me some feedback. Should I keep with the current format? Are you liking the individual, personal story? I realize that's hard to gauge considering there is only one at the moment. Whose story would you like next? Hermione's or Terry's? Where would you like the story lines to go? They'll all probably be similar in tone and structure as Hannah's. This story is just as much about the loss of proximity and friends, as it is about gaining them.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	5. Pieces

Chapter 5: Pieces

I woke up feeling loopy. My emotions were strands tied in foreign knots. Each way I pulled, and each way I tried to loosen them, they only became more tight and confused. What happened last night? Who am I? The questions kept beating into the side of my skull; an echo to my erratic heart beat. My eyes felt swollen from the tears; the skin irritated in streaks down my face. Muscles felt sore from the heightened anxiety: pulled and tight.

Despite myself, I left my bed with confidence. My actions felt easy. As if I had escaped from chains keeping me to the ground. I was not so much walking now, than hovering a foot over top of it. A single deliberate action forwards. Ready to face that which came towards me. I may not have had any answers to those questions which kept my head occupied, but maybe I did no need answers at the moment. Maybe I would just be okay with the questions. Maybe that was enough.

In a sense, I had been freed from chains with my new short hair. The locks of my hair had been opened. No longer was I constrained by those strands. Before I felt like I was being pulled downwards; now I was liberated from that sense of gravity. The hairs only stretched an inch outwards. A pale comparison to their former length.

When I woke in the morning, I had momentarily forgotten what I had done. I felt different though, almost instinctively. Almost as if I knew. I reached my hand towards my head, and touched nothing. In a sudden wave the memories returned. The realization of what I had done. And it felt right! A smile grew on my face and, and, I can't explain. For the first time in weeks I did not wake with judgement, or insecurities. I just felt how I wanted to feel. I could not ask for more.

With luck, I was the last person to wake up in the morning. The beds around me were empty. Not surprising, considering how late I had been up the night before. It must have been early afternoon when I finally woke up. I was glad to be alone. The girls would have wanted me to explain my new hair cut. I did not feel like giving one. I'm not sure if I could have given one. Perhaps I would have tried to approximate my feelings, but that would not be an explanation. I'm not sure there was one to give at all. It was good to wake up alone. It was easier that way.

I left the sixth year girl's dorm room with a loose blouse and tight red pants. The hallway was empty. I stopped by the washroom to clean myself up. My hands felt rough under the water; my head continued to ache from the night before. I tried my best to avoid my reflection in the mirror. Each time I stole a glance, I quickly turned my head away. This time I was not going to be tricked by its gaze. I would not be trapped within the self reflection: examination: interrogation.

My curiosity pulled me into a single uninterrupted stare. I wanted to see how it looked; how the short hair changed me. The strands were only an inch, barely falling over my skin. Angles were more pronounced; my face shot forward like a triangle. The details of my face were noticeable, no longer hidden behind the former veil. I looked more confident. I looked less afraid of the world. I looked ready to bare my face to the world; to bare myself to the world.

In the main room of HufflePuff, small crowds filled different pockets in the space. I hoped to head out directly, avoiding the attention of others. I'd head over to the library. I wouldn't have to explain myself to the study group. They'd like the hair, I hoped. And I wanted to see Nott. Maybe to apologize for the night before. Maybe just to see him.

Unfortunately my plan was interrupted. "Hannah?" Cedric asked, standing up from his seat. The whole group he was sitting with, comprised mostly of Quidditch players, turned their attention towards me. Disliking the attention, I continued to walked towards the door. Cedric followed suit, ignoring my lack of a response.

Once I was through the door and outside of the room, I turned my attention towards him. "Hey Cedric." The words felt without emotion.

"Are you okay?" His face looked concerned and sympathetic. I'm not sure what he was sympathizing with. I was feeling great; maybe great was an exaggeration. I felt good. There was no need to be concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine Cedric." I replied. "How was the rest of your night? Go well?" My words felt sour between my lips. Did Cedric deserve me to act this way? Was it his fault? In either case, I was not in the mood to face it at that moment. I wanted him to go away.

"It was alright," he said quickly deflecting the question. "Did you do that last night?" he remarked, referring to my short hair. "Is something wrong?"

"Why would there be something wrong?" I answered with another question. "Just because I cut my hair there must be something wrong? Yes I did it last night. And no, nothing is wrong. Thanks for caring." I turned around and started to walk away. An interrogation was not what I wanted to face. I'd have to deal with that later, but not now. Especially not on his terms and not mine.

"Wait," Cedric outstretched his arm and grabbed my shoulder. I turned around momentarily to give him my focus. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean that there was something wrong with you. I just wanted to know why you did it. What happened last night? You're not the kind of person to do something so brash."

A smile grew on my lips. "If you think I'm not that kind of a person, then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do." I took his hand off of my shoulder. "I'm sorry if you think you've done something wrong, you didn't. It just turns out that you're not the kind of guy I'm interested in at the moment." With that I walked away.

"Hey!" Cedric called after me. "What is that supposed to mean? Hey! Hey!" His voice slowly grew more and more desperate after each repetition. On the last syllable he cracked. The words sounded vulnerable. I wasn't expecting that. Maybe Cedric was not as confident as he always made himself out to be. I guess we all have our problems to deal with. Unfortunately I could not solve mine with Cedric. Hopefully he'd be able to without me.

When I arrived at the door of the library, my body froze. The confidence drained out of my pores. Was there some truth in Cedric's words? Was it unlike myself to cut my hair? What if it seemed like nothing more but a cry for attention? Would the study group agree with me, or just judge my vanity?

Even then, why was it so important for them to like it? This was supposed to be about myself! Why did I still need others' approval. Was I no better? Was I any better than before? I pressed my palm onto my face. The emotions felt like flying forward. Keep them in Hannah. Keep them in.

"Hannah!" I turned around to see Terry's standing behind me. "What a cute look!" His smile capturing most of his face. Before I could respond, he pulled me into a hug. My head nestled against his chest, which was unusual. I was one of the tallest girls in the school, even the boys who were over six feet tall hardly towered over me. Terry's grip was firm, but it was also reassuring. There was a certain delicacy in his hug.

"Hey Terry," I mumbled under his arms. A hug was just what I needed; Terry had a special sense to know when to do certain things. His actions always felt a whole move ahead of everyone else. That's why people always felt so close to him; it just seemed like he knew you better than anyone else.

After the hug, we moved into the library. I intended to head straight to our table, but Terry cut in front of me, and stopped me in my place. "Are you okay Hannah?" Terry asked, the same question as Cedric. Before I had a chance to respond, Terry tried expand on the question. "Look, I talked with Nott this morning at breakfast. He told me about last night. I just want to make sure you're doing alright."

"What'd he say?" I'd barely thought about my conversation with Nott. The circumstances had been pretty out of the ordinary. I hoped he was alright with what happened.

"Only a bit. He seemed pretty confused. I don't think he's used to dealing with others' personal problems like that. Nott can be a really fragile guy."

My stomach wrapped around itself. I had not thought about that. Nott must have been so confused an uncomfortable. Shit, I felt like an asshole. It was not fair to put him into that position; especially considering it was so late. He barely had time to get his barrings and collect his thoughts by the time I started to berate him with my own neurosis.

Terry, as if reading my mind, put his arm on my shoulder. Another move stolen from Cedric. "I wouldn't worry about it though. Seemed to me like he was almost flattered by the ordeal. That you'd think to come to him in that circumstance, and not someone like me. I just think he talked to me seeking some support. And for me to make sure you're doing okay. You alright?"

Assured by Terry's words, I swallowed my emotions momentarily. The torrent of my feelings had been out of control. I needed to rest; meditate; fight the tides. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"He didn't mention your new hair cut though. You're such a bitch sometimes you know?" He laughed to himself. "I can't believe you look even better with your hair short! How are the rest of us even supposed to compete? I keep expecting you to reach the peek, but then damn, you just keep on climbing."

I laughed at Terry's words. They felt real, and without an ulterior motive. "Thanks Terry, can't remember the last time I heard someone compliment me like that. Nott didn't mention the hair cut, cause it happened afterwards. He hasn't seen it yet."

"Well isn't he in for a treat." Terry smiled. We stood together in a silence. Our words kept to ourselves. Terry's smile slowly degraded to a stern look of concern. "Nott mentioned you were pretty shaken about Cedric. I just wanted to let you know that you have my support. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood." His words were felt sincere, and almost a little sad.

"Really? That's hard to imagine. You're so personable." I commented.

Terry laughed at my response. "You'd think so right? I think half of the girls in Ravenclaw have pronounced their love to me, yet I couldn't be less interested in them. Not a single boy has, mind you, not a single one."

"That's tough," I said. I had not realized Terry was gay. It was not common knowledge. Considering how popular Terry was, he probably kept it a secret. That sort of thing would travel fast in gossip. I wonder how many people knew; was I one of the few? How personable was his statement? I felt flattered none the less; he obviously trusted me and felt comfortable enough to outright say it. "I can't imagine how difficult it must be to have so many people get you wrong."

Never missing a beat, Terry shrugged off the suggestion. "It can be annoying at times. So I understand how you feel. And it's always painful when you discover someone you cared about does not get that."

"Yeah." I was unaware whether Terry was referring to something specific. There was a certain weight behind his words which made me feel like there was, but Terry was always so convincing about everything, I could not be sure.

"So anyways, if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. We're all here for you."

"Thanks Terry."

"If you don't mind me asking, why'd you go to see Nott by the way?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Didn't really think about it. He just seemed like the right person to see."

"That's cute." Terry smiled, pushing lightly on my shoulder. With that he walked past me towards our table.

At the table, Hermione and Nott sat down across from each other. Hermione's head was concerned with a book; her hair draped over the sides of her face. In her right hand, she held firmly onto a ball point pen. Like a lion crouching, ready to strike, she seemed ready at any moment to take down a note.

Nott leaned back in his chair; the front two legs of the chair lifted of the ground. Nott had a novel resting on his chest face down. His face turned upwards to the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular. He wore his leather jacket, and tight blue jeans with holes in the knees. His sunglasses rested on the table next to his knapsack. I wonder if he was feeling the aura of the room; trying to tune his feelings just right.

"Hey you two." Terry greeted. Hermione lifted her head from her book, dropping her pen and attention. She smiled as we approached, her eyes watched me intently as I came closer. Nott stayed leaning back in his chair, but turned his face towards us. He motioned a flick of his wrist; greeting us with the gesture.

Hermione, realizing it was me with Terry, jumped up from her spot. "Hannah! I almost didn't recognize you there." She walked up to me and gave me a hug. "I like your new hair cut. I wish I was bold enough to do something like that."

"Thanks Hermione."

"Did you cut it before the party? I heard things didn't go well with Cedric." She asked, always analyzing every situation.

"No, I cut it afterwards. Who told you about Cedric?" I asked.

"Well, Ron did, sort of. He talked about some of Cedric's antics last night. Apparently he got really drunk and tried to start a fight with Ron. I asked about you, and Ron did seem to know anything about him being with you, so I sort of reasoned it out. I've been waiting to ask you about it. What happened?"

"Nothing really. I think it was a good idea in theory, but after we spent some time together I just don't think we saw each other eye to eye." I answered truthfully, trying to avoid the details. I would probably tell Hermione all about it later, but at the moment I wanted to expel thoughts about it from my mind.

"That's too bad. But you don't really have any option in that sort of situation."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"Hannah," Nott said, drawing my attention to him. "I like the hair. I think it fits you." His tone was delicate. I was thankful to hear his approval. Thank you Nott, for everything.

"It more than fits her," Terry interjected. "Look at her! Fuck, if I were straight you would need to hold me back with..." but before he could finish his words, I punched him in the arm. "Alright, alright, I'll try to control myself."

The two of us joined Nott and Hermione at the table, and the conversation drifted away from me. Terry kept trying to convince Hermione to give him the answers to the _Arithmancy _assignment. Nott tilted his head back to the ceiling; lost feeling the aura I assume.

I sat comfortably. Why was I here? What was I looking for? I didn't need answers to those questions, at least not now. I only needed to be okay. And, for the moment, I was. I did not need to steal a glimpse of myself, to understand my beauty. I did not need to find someone who could see me for who I really was. If I could just put all those conflicting emotions, those pieces of me, together and be alright, that was all I could wish for.

I ran my fingers through my hair, and smiled. Close enough.

...

Part 1: Hannah's Story End

...

_Author's Notes: _Hannah's story is finally finished. Originally I intended for the story to be much shorter and less expansive, but I like what it turned into. When I came up with the idea for The Study Group, Hannah was the character I had the most trouble understanding. She didn't seem to be definable in simple terms. Eventually I realized my inability to understand her was her most important characteristic, and what should be the focus of her story. I hope you liked it!

The last chapter received a number of reviews from people who obviously took the time to read the story (and a funny review by someone who obviously did not; who doesn't read a story solely because it's written in the first person?). I wanted to thank all the reviewers for your kind words. Nothing keeps me motivated better!

I'm still unsure whose story will be the next one. The next few weeks are busy for me, so it'll probably be a few weeks before I start the next one. If you have any suggestions, feel free to share them!

Finally, about whether this is a hermione/theodore story. My original plan was for this story to be a straight hermione/theodore story. After Hannah's story, I'm not sure if it will be. I promise that there will be sexual tension between hermione and theodore, but I can't be sure if there will be a pairing of them. I want the story to grow naturally; I will not try to force the plot to fit into a restrictive forced mold.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	6. Postcards

Part 2: Terry's Story

Chapter 6: Postcards

I found myself at a loss for words. We stood around the table. Anthony and Kevin had mischief held within their eyes. They were excited by the suggestion. Their imaginations ran off with the possibilities; sticking their interests where they did not belong. The two of them were endless sources of gossip. To them, this was kindling begging to be burnt; only needing the spark of their touch.

Stephen had shrugged his shoulder, and moved out towards the window of the dorm. He opened it a sliver, to feel the fresh air enter the room. The windows were three feet tall with large windowsills level with the beds. Stephen smoked a cigarette every morning there. The smoke would be carried outside by the draft. To hide his trail, he left a carefully crafted spell to hide that gunk stench smoke left in the room.

Michael had only just woken up. His participation was due less from curiosity, than a sense he should be involved. All of his focus was dedicated in discovering whatever we were focused on, despite his total disinterest in whatever it was. His clothes consisted exclusively of the boxers hanging down his hips. A couple hairs climbed up the middle of his waist; cutting his chest into a symmetry. Michael's muscles were refined. He felt like an aberration on the Ravenclaw tendency to avoid the body and to focus on the mind. He played better Quidditch because of it; better than the excuses Ravenclaw produced for Quidditch players.

The note rested on the table. The pressure was on me to comment. Wherever the conversation was headed, would be steered by my next words. Did we laugh? Did we mock? Did we talk seriously, which could never really be serious in this room. The dorm room of Ravenclaw was a place for jokes and for prejudices. There was no place for some sort of reasoned position here. An ironic propensity considering Ravenclaw's insistence on an academic atmosphere. All of the boys were smart; at least many of them were. Unfortunately smart kids do not equate to a more enlightened circumstance. They can be just as hateful; just as simple; just as unsatisfying.

Which was the best option for me? My thoughts were irrelevant really. They would never listen to what I wanted to give them. Their pallets would never be satiated by those words. My words needed to be theirs. And my words were theirs. I had made none of them. I'd only learned the words from them; their language a simple system to perform. The only real option now was how to perform it. There were still many possibilities available, even in such a limited circumstance.

"Anybody know anything about her?" I'd leave it up to their own discretion. Anthony and Kevin looked at each other, trying to determine whether or not they had any idea. Their eagerness overstepped their own knowledge of the situation. Both wanted to jump in, and give me their opinion, but they had no real opinion. They just wanted to be involved. Which was alright; wish I could have traded with them. I just wanted out.

"Her name's Luna Lovegood, I think." Stephen called over from his window. The cigarette held between his lips. He stared out of the window; sucking up the beauty the tower allowed. Ravenclaw was in the south-east tower of the school. The upper year dorms were on the top floors. Our view looked over the forest, deep into the hills. Stephen sat on the windowsill; his pack of cigarettes and lighter rested beside him. "She's from the year below us. I've talked to her a bit. Asked me about Terry yesterday. She seems cool, but sort of off. Not sure if she'd be worth the trouble. I'd suggest not pursuing anything Terry."

She had no chance truly. I'd talked to her a bit myself. Her words sounded weak; an exasperated whisper whenever she spoke. She was nice, just often misunderstood. This morning, I woke to a knock on the door of our dorm. Sue Li stood on the other end, holding a postcard. She told me not to hurt Luna; Sue had been in a similar position. I'm sorry Sue. I'm sorry Luna too, I guess. I just cut it off faster this time; I knew myself now. I did not know myself with Sue. Ravenclaw knew me even less; the students with their jagged eyes always seeing me wrong.

Luna had written out a love note on the postcard, trying to express her feelings. The words were a confession of she felt about me; how important I was to her. It was not so much a love letter, but a cry for help. A letter asking for help to be understood. I knew the sentiment well. Better than she could imagine. Unfortunately I could not help her, and she could not help me; not in this way at least.

I would have quickly done away with the note, no point in making it a public affair, but Kevin had noticed Lisa pass me the note. Kevin loved any sort of drama within the Ravenclaw house. His gossiping was a sort of validation whenever he was involved, that way he knew he was a part of something bigger. Anthony jumped on it too, for many of the same reasons. Kevin grabbed the note out of my hand before I noticed him. He placed it on the table, and in a playful voice asked who was declaring their love for me now. I played ignorance.

But now, thanks to Stephen's comments, it was out in the open. Luna did not deserve her name to be brought out between us. She'd only be alone and scared. Reaching out to me in an attempt to connect. She probably thought I was her only chance. It was not her fault she was wrong.

Anthony smiled at the suggestion of Luna's name. His banter quickly devolved into the usual sort of talk we shared. "Don't listen to Stephen, Terry. This is an opportunity in which the different sides need to be weighed. On one hand, she's sort of crazy. On the other hand, crazy chicks are the best fucks."

"That's one way to look at it," I suggested, playing the game. Talking their language.

"I'm sure you're an expert on that Anthony." Stephen called out from the windowsill. "Just because all you can get is the crazy ones, doesn't mean they are the best." Michael stayed silent, and content in learning the topic of conversation, moved over to Stephen. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes; his long legs stood bright in the light. His boxers were still the only clothing he wore. He put a cigarette in his mouth, lit the tip, and took a drag, leaning against the wall.

"Fuck you Stephen," Anthony replied. "We all know you don't get any more pussy than I do. You're just jealous this chick chose Terry instead of you. Just like all the others."

"Back off," Michael commented under his breath. Smoking in his boxers.

Stephen stared back off out the window. "I don't need you to stand up for me Michael."

With a grin stretched over his face, Anthony was not finished. "Did I strike a chord? You always liked the weird ones. Has your Morrissey fantasy not play out like you want? The sensitive girls are not throwing their panties at your brooding ass? Guess Terry just has it figured out. Cause all those girls are sending love letters. They're just not addressed to to you. Maybe if you acted less like a faggot, then one of the girls you like would give a shit about you."

"That's it!" Stephen declared, standing up from the windowsill. "You piece of shit!" He pointed his finger directly at Anthony, anger evident on his face. The cigarette dangled on the cusp of his lip. Stephen was a sensitive guy, who was usually calm and collected, but there was violence in his walk toward Anthony. He was moving with the intention of causing hurt.

Before he was able to reach Anthony, Michael and I grabbed Stephen by the arms. My size made it easy to hold Stephen back; Michael, the strongest of our year in Ravenclaw, easily kept held Stephen in place. "You fucker! You fucker!" Stephen called at Anthony from our grip. His arm shook under my grasp, trying to pull it free. The motions were not pronounced or forceful, but desperate. As if Stephen was scared, but unable to pull back from his advancement forward.

"Calm down Stephen!" I said into his ear. "And Anthony, what the fuck is wrong with you? What is this supposed to accomplish?"

Anthony was surprised by Stephen's change of mood. My words broke the smile on his face, and made him reflect. The confident manner dripped away from his face. He may not have imagined Stephen would have reacted so strongly. "Hey Stephen, forget about it. I was, I was just joking. Didn't mean for it to get real, or anything."

"Whatever," Stephen mumbled under his breath. His body loosened. Michael and I let go of his arms. He moved back to the windowsill, and grabbed another cigarette from his pack. Michael followed him, and lit the cigarette in his lips. Stephen avoided looking at the rest of us, partly out of shame from his actions. He covered his face with his palm; breathing deeply, the venerability of his breath beat with each inhale. Anthony looked obviously shaken from what had transpired, and left the dorm with Kevin. The gossip was not fun anymore. Anthony may have had the second highest marks in our year, behind Hermione, but his choices often seemed to be acted on without forethought. As if he never applied those skills in school, to situations in the rest of his life.

Stephen noticeably avoided my gaze. I guess he was a hurt part of this equation too. If he had been interested in Luna, then her asking him about me must have been crushing. Another casualty to this circus I was in the centre of. I did not mean for him to get involved or hurt. If only they would let me out of it. If only I let myself out of it. I'm sorry Stephen, but hopefully you'll still be able to move forward. Luna's not going to get her help from me. Maybe she can still get it from you.

I slowly made my way towards the door. It was better to leave. I held the message of Luna under my arm; a gravity throwing my body into a twist. Another new postcard; another confession in words. How many did I have? How many had I caused? The old postcards stacked on my conscience. Each a different stroke against me; each a little regret. I didn't want this. But is it not my fault? If I just told her, and everyone that I'm gay, then would that not fix it?

Could it be so simple? What was holding me back? What was I afraid of? Of change? Of everything changing? I didn't like to think about it.

I headed to the library. The study group had agreed to meet up briefly in the morning. The first _Arithmancy _exam was coming up; we planned to share notes and coordinate our strategy for preparation. I had originally planned to grab a bite to eat at the dining hall beforehand, but I was delayed by the note. While my stomach growled, I did not need to eat breakfast. I would simply stop by there later. Stephen would probably do the same, and then I could talk to him. Explain the situation. Clarify my position on the matter; make my intentions with Luna explicit. Try to fix what I had already muddled up.

The library was nearly empty. Pince wandered the halls, trying to keep the books company. Making sure they did not start crying their ink off of the page. How lonely each spine looked, despite being surrounded by thousands of their brethren. The books were overwhelmed with their peers, but had no one to talk to. They waited for attention. When someone would open their cover, and take the time read their words. Only when they were read, did a book ever get to talk: to be understood: to connect. Otherwise they were castaway in a sea of people. Alone, but surrounded. No one felt like reading today. The students had more important things to accomplish. I did too. I needed a distraction. A distraction a book could not give me. Sorry.

Hannah, Hermione and Nott had already assembled around our usual table. Their notes scattered across the surface. Thrown together, to be later organized and structured. Hermione and Hannah were engulfed in each other's notes. Their faces consumed, dragged downwards. Trying to comprehend the other's words, translating them into their own language. Nott sat back in his chair day dreaming. His focus stared into the distance, irrelevant to his location.

Nott wore his sunglasses, hiding behind his fashion. The sunglasses served no other purpose. Nott wore the glasses solely for us: to hide. His leather jacket, tight black pants, large boots, Xiu Xiu t-shirt, was all part of his costume, of the role he'd be playing the last few weeks. His performance was consistent and empty. Trying to feign a sense of confidence and security. The sunglasses were the essential part of the make-up; keeping Nott's eyes from betraying him. Hiding how much he was afraid, of where he was, of who he was.

The style was an improvement from the Nott of the past. In the year before, Nott had tried to be more social, but it tore him apart. I met him during that time; really met him, beyond those words shared in classes. He started to attend a number of the social gatherings between the different houses. Surrounding himself with the esteemed Slytherins of our year. He felt like an anomally nonetheless. Like a fox desperately trying to fit in with a crowd of hounds. I was not surprised to see him break off from that this year. I bet the different pressures, and the ways people tried to influence him, forced him into an ever closing box he had no intention of being a part of. Punk Rock was a way to fix this, by placing himself in a new box. I wondered if he needed a box at all though.

Hermione was wrecked. I wish she shared with us what was on her mind. Her answers were always uniform: 'everything's okay'. I knew she was lying. We all knew she was lying. The past couple of weeks Hermione had slowly started to lose her confidence. She was skinnier, her cheeks jaunt. Her usual curves were straightening. I doubt she was eating well. Something was going on with her; something locked behind the doors of Gryffindor from us. Something locked within her mind: festering and fermenting. I hoped she would be more open, and let me in. I bet something was wrong; no, I knew something was wrong. I just did not know what at that moment.

As I approached, I noticed something different with Hannah. "Hey everyone!" I greeted. "Hannah, is that a nose ring?" I asked, trying to be courteous, despite stating the obvious. I sat down at my usual place.

"Yep," She said, turning to me. The ring was a deep silver colour; pierced through the left nostril. "I also just got a couple more done on my right ear." She turned her head completely, showing off the other side of her face. Three new rings climbed up the lobe of her left ear. Her hair was still short, and barely reached towards the lobe; allowing the higher piercings to be clear.

Hannah had changed her look a little since cutting her hair. She mixed different outfits, often with stark colour contrast. Her bold neon green shirt jumped out of her jean jacket; seemingly out of place with her long brown skirt which fell down to her ankles. The piercings were the most obvious change yet. I worried that she was doing it mostly as a coping mechanism; as a way to sublimate the emotions she was still struggling with. An expression of that sexual frustration she could not express with others. On the other hand she looked better than I had ever seen her. There was something right about the short hair, and the piercings fit well too; plus, she was just too damned cute!

"When did you have a chance to get those?" I asked her.

"Ernie and I snuck out to Hogsmeade after class yesterday. I'd be thinking about it the last couple of weeks, and at Ernie's insistence we decided to actually go through with it. It's been strange, I've never done something like that before. I'm still feeling a little bit of the adrenaline from the whole experience. We were worried one of the faculty members would be able to infer what we did, but so far no one has. Only professor to mention anything has been Pince, but, you know, she doesn't count."

"That's quite the adventure." I said.

"Weren't you afraid of getting caught?" Hermione asked raising her head from the notes.

"Of course," Hannah replied. "I've never felt more paranoid in my life. Each turn and each corner caused my stomach to fold in on itself. It was fun though. Worth it."

"Couldn't you have waited for Christmas? You wouldn't have needed to take those unnecessary risks. You could have been expelled." Hermione continued.

Hermione's point was valid, but she was failing to recognize an essential part to the whole. Hannah had her reasons for getting the piercings soon. I started "She could have, yes, but that would be no good for you, would it Hannah? You didn't want to wait that long; you wanted them done for the Halloween Ball didn't you?"

As I expected, Hannah's face changed at the suggestion. She turned her head downwards towards her knees. Her fingers curled over top of her knees. The reaction was evident; she was ashamed. Why? I must have been right. Something was special about the Halloween Ball. I quickly tried to work through the possibilities. "Maybe," she suggested with reservations. "That may have crossed my mind, but not in the way you're probably thinking."

Before she had a chance to explain anything, I quickly jumped in: "well, I bet it's a boy." Although the suggestion was made mostly out of jest, I was curious if it was a possibility. "You're hoping to catch the eyes of some lucky guy. Yes, yes, the piercings are to help you boost your confidence. If you're able to sneak out of Hogwarts to get these done, then asking a boy out will feel like nothing. And I bet he's the kind of person who'll dig it too! Who'll think the piercings are so cool. Who won't be able to resist you." There were obvious implications in the suggestion. I was curious; I wanted to know if there was anything between her and Nott. The two of them had been getting closer recently. Since she paid him the visit late at night, they seemed to understand each other on a deeper level. How deep? I was unsure. I wanted to find out.

Nott stayed still as I talked. Hiding behind his sunglasses.

"No!" Hannah quickly corrected. "It's not like that. Not in that way at least. I'm not going to go with anyone to the ball. I want to go alone. I mean." She was hesitant. Aware of the implications her words carried with them. "What I was going to say, was that I was thinking about how cool it would be to go to the ball alone, right? There's such a stigma against going stag, I want to show how fucking cool it can be. The nose ring is a part of that."

"Sounds like an honourable intention," I said.

"Sounds condescending to me." Nott added. He pulled down his sunglasses and levelled his chair. "Like those who go alone need your help. As if without you, people won't recognize how cool we are."

"No!" Hannah repeated, louder this time. If anyone else had been in the library, Pince would have asked us to quiet down. "That's not what I meant."

Maybe the two of them did not understand each other as well as I thought.

In an effort to discharge the situation, the incident with Anthony and Stephen had drained my patience, I jumped in. "Wait, wait. Nott, you know that's not what she meant. You're reading into her words. She's not saying she's the only one who will show how cool it is, she's saying she wants to be apart of the group that shows how cool it is."

"Fair enough," Nott said, leaning back into his chair.

"Thank you, Terry" Hannah mumbled under her breath.

The other two started to enclose themselves in their own minds. Reflection on their actions started to settle into their thoughts: regrets growing. I did not want this to turn into the situation earlier. Stephen locking himself inwards; refusing to look me in the eyes. I needed to distract them. Take them outside of themselves; not give them a chance to think if they could have done better.

I began "are you so sure you're not going to go with anyone Nott? I'm sure Draco could match you up with a girl if you asked. You shouldn't give up before you've tried."

Nott laughed under his breath at the suggestion. A smirk grew on his lips as he thought about it. Wondering about the possibilities, I'm sure. "Not a chance. I think Draco would more likely send me to the Hospital Wing if I asked. He'd probably think I accidentally drank a Twilight Moonbeam or Cupid Crystal. Not sure how I would have an opportunity to accidentally drink a love potion, but you know, still more likely." I laughed at the comment. "What about you Terry? You took Sue out to most of the Balls last year. Going to ask her out again?"

Hearing Sue's name brought back the event earlier in the day. Sue standing in the dorm room doorway, holding Luna's postcard in her hand. A discouraging look painting her face. Sternly asking me not to hurt Luna. Did Luna ask Sue to give me the letter? I bet Sue insisted. She was like that. I'm sorry Sue. Wish I knew more about myself then. Wish I didn't hurt you like I did. I wished I knew myself then too. I'm sorry I hurt myself too. Please, believe me. Please, try to understand.

"No," I answered Nott solemnly. "That's over."

Perhaps sensing I did not want to talk about it, Nott did not press the issue any further. Instead, he turned to Hermione and asked: "what about you Hermione? Have a hot date lined up? One of us must, right?"

Throughout our discussion, Hermione had buried her nose deeper into her notes. Her shoulders looked tense, and staunch. She looked less like she was casually looking through notes, and more like she was trying her hardest to hide. To hide in full sight, surrounded by the rest of us. I would have rested my hand on her shoulder, if she did not look like she would have jumped at the contact. She looked unusually vulnerable. Not quite the strong and sure of herself Hermione I was used to. We waited a second for Hermione to respond to Nott, but her focus remained on the notes.

"Hermione?" Hannah asked tentatively.

"I'm sorry guys," Hermione finally replied, raising her head. "I was focused on the Arithmancy notes. I think I'm going to head back to Gryffindor, to do a little more work on it alone. See you later." Awkwardly and abruptly, she stood up and collected her papers. Flashing us a brief smile, she turned away from us, and headed towards the door.

The three of us sat in silence, watching as she left. What an anomaly. I was not sure how to act. I don't think any of us did. It felt so out of character for her. Hermione loved to gossip, usually. She liked to think she had a good handle on everyone else. Gossip was the way she could test her theories. To refine her definitions, and amend inconsistencies. And now she was the one inconsistent. We were going to need to talk to her. Figure out what was going on. It was tough though. She did not want to let us know.

After a minute in silence, Nott stood up from his chair and put on his leather jacket. Zipped up, covering his Xiu Xiu t-shirt. He fiddled in his pocket, and took out a pack of black cigarettes. The same kind Draco smoked. His hands trembled; affected by something. "I'm going to head out too." He waved his hand, and headed out the door as well. He seemed shaken; perhaps he had not intended Hermione to react that way to his question.

Now there were only two of us sitting at the table. Hannah's notes were sprawled out over top of the table. I had not even taken out my books. Our study time seemed to have prematurely ended. Hannah seemed preoccupied with the ground, for reasons foreign to me. I decided I would head out to the dining room to grab some breakfast. Hopefully Stephen would be there, and I could explain the situation with Luna and myself. That there was nothing between us. I stood up from my seat, but was interrupted by Hannah speaking.

"Hey Terry, about the Halloween Ball." Hannah started quietly. Just barely louder than a whisper. Her face stayed focused downwards.

"Yeah?"

"It's just that ... well ... you know ... I though I should." She spoke slowly with exaggerated pauses.

"Should what?"

"I know it wasn't my place ... wasn't my business ... but you don't understand ... he's been crushing for so long ... I couldn't not do it ... didn't really have a choice."

"Hannah!" I said with emphasis, trying to focus her attention at me. I could barely understand her, talking into her knees. "What are you trying to say?"

Hannah stood up and assembled her notes. Holding the pages to her chest, she said "I told Ernie about you. He's had a crush on you for years. He's going to ask you to the Halloween Ball. I know it wasn't my place to tell him, but, look, just please don't hurt him." When she finished, she quickly turned around and walked away.

I sat back down. It felt like another postcard was placed in front of me. Except, this time it was different. I could not run away from it. This could change things. It could change everything. And, and I wasn't sure if I wanted that or not. Emotions conflicted and fought within me. I felt small, in front of a big decision, like a hill I could not see over. And, for maybe the first time in years, I had no idea what to do.

...

Author's Notes: Terry's story is the story I'm the most afraid of writing. All of the other characters go through plots and have personalities I'm familiar with, except for Terry. His perspective and what he's going through is foreign to me, and I hope I'm doing it justice.

I wanted to thank all of the people who were kind enough to leave a review for the last chapter. All of the feedback is greatly appreciated, and is a nice feeling to know people are reading the story.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	7. Sunflowers in the Night

Chapter 7: Sunflowers in the Night

With the others' eyes centred on me, I started to speak the incantations. A small spark shot out of my wand, erupting into a small explosion of light. The streaks danced in the air; carving a white outline. A flick of my wrist and the light simmered into a black outline hidden within the night. The dark grime turned into a hard metal wired coiled as a stem. And then a burst! Steel heated into a glow. The outline of a sunflower! Like a golden sceptre erect in the night. A sunflower speaking in curves and expanses; holding onto the sunlight: staring towards the horizon. Speak, come dawn. Let the sunflower be gifted with the rays, or else be broken down into the grime. The lines grew illuminated into a pure white. The outline softened, until it became less and less like a firm figure. The stem erupted. Leaving only petals, which folded into themselves; becoming the sun. A single source of light. Filled with the different conflicting forces. The coming together; the falling apart. A snap of my finger, a drop of wand, and the sun exploded into the light pink outline of a dancing man. Whose body stripped bare showed the hairy naked expression hidden behind the personality. Danced off those constrictions held tight in our socialization. Bold man face the world. Hold yourself true. The words we could not speak. Until he hugged down his chest -holding himself bare- and tore himself apart. Leaving only light pink lines to disappear into the sky, and fall down as rain.

The small circle erupted into applause, filling the mostly silent night. I smiled childishly, and gave an exaggerated bow. Figuration pieces were a favourite at parties. They often insisted I perform one. This was an original I'd made over the summer. The first time I'd had the confidence to perform it in front of others. They seemed to like it. Anthony called out "encore," but I was cold standing in the air. Summer had completely faded into a chill autumn; I wrapped my wool coat tighter around my shoulders.

I could see the whole pitch from where I was standing. I towered over the small sea of people hunched into small circles on the ground. Earlier in the day, the annual Halloween Quidditch tournament occurred; starting the Halloween festivities. We were the remnants of the after party, scattered on the Quidditch field. Initially the party had nearly filled the pitch with students from every year. Now only small pockets of upper years remained scattered in small groups. Sharing alcohol between each other stealthily, hiding from any over sight.

Putting away my wand, I sat down and joined the others. There were about a half dozen of us in our year from Ravenclaw. Michael rested his head on Padma's lap, staring into the sky. Anthony was drinking from a forty ouncer of whiskey, sharing it with Lisa. The two of them racing each other; trying to see who could fuck themselves up quicker. To either puke up their guts or puke up those secret feelings begging to crawl out of their mouths. I sat between Stephen and Sue, who were mostly quiet. Stephen with his exaggerated quiff, smoking cigarettes; Sue with her black and white striped shirt, holding down her chest.

"That was really cool," Stephen commented. His eyes drooped downwards, tired and strained. The slender of his body, inches from mine. Fingers resting right beside mine. The frown and strain kept on his face; hiding behind the smoke of his cigarette. This was the closest we'd been in days. He'd been avoiding me; still affected by Luna's postcard.

"Fucking fantastic really. I can barely do a stick figure." Anthony yelled unnecessarily loudly. Assuring the rest of us his opinion. He leaned forward, extending his arm and waving the whiskey in his hand. "That deserves a drink."

I took the bottle and flashed Anthony a smile. Hesitantly, I only took a small sip. I tried to stay mostly sober at these sorts of events. Anthony was talented at drinking too much. I could not quite grasp his insistence in the state; the self destructive spiral muddling it all up; keeping himself numb. I liked keeping my head straight. Having control over my sensibilities. "Thanks man. To be honest, I was kind of shy to show that to people. Seems a little unrefined in places."

"It's hard to imagine you shy," Lisa said with a little slur in her speech. "You're always so confident." She'd been keeping up with Anthony tonight. I'm sure their excess enjoyed the company. If you're going to go too far, drink too much, might as well have someone else come along for the ride.

"I guess we all have our failings sometimes."

"Failings? That was brilliant!" Anthony blurted out. The alcohol had obviously taken its tole on him. He tried to stand up, to display his excitement. But he swayed as soon as he stood, and quickly retook his seat. Having lost his sense of balance, he placed his hand on Lisa's shoulder. Her face turned a beet red by the touch; himself irrelevant. "You should consider doing that professionally. I mean, I know we always joke about starving artists, but if you do that sort of shit, like, I'd pay for it."

"You're really good at it." Padma commented. She passed her hand through Michael's hair. He barely moved in her lap; I would have guessed he was sleeping if his eyes weren't open. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team had not performed well in the tournament, despite Michael's efforts. I wondered if he was playing the game again through his head; like a theatre playing the frames before his eyes. Padma held tight onto him. She did not focus on him, allowing him to act as he wished, but she kept him close. Trying to make sure she was a part of what he did. Holding onto what they had. The brief connections they could make. Could I have that? What about what Hannah said earlier? I ...

I let out a laugh, unsure how to respond to the high praise. "I've never really considered doing it like that. It's never really been about getting paid. I used to do it back when I was a kid, to keep myself company. I sort of feel it's not all that different now. If I did it professionally, then that would change it right?"

Stephen, bogarting his cigarette, chimed in briefly. "Sure, it would change it, and turning anything into a profession will make it suck, but you gotta work. Don't have a choice. Might as well plan to do something which you know you can kind of enjoy. Why live your life not how you want to?"

"That's true. I guess I'll have to think about it."

The others returned to their own conversations. I passed the bottle to Stephen, who took a swig and passed it to Sue. I'd been trying to talk to Stephen the past couple of days, but he had cut himself off from me. Luna's confession had cut deep into him. It must have hurt, her choosing me. In a way, it seemed unfair the way he blamed me for it. I did not even want Luna to have chosen me. But this still ignored the problem: she chose me. She wanted me instead of him. I'm sorry Stephen. Sorry things could not end up the way you wanted. Despite my best efforts, in love, this always seemed to be the outcome. Whenever I was involved, things got screwed up. Sue knew that more than anyone. Sorry Sue. Really, I am. I wish things could have went differently. I wish, I ...

I was sympathetic to Stephen's position. Everything would be fixed if he approached Luna and explained his feelings. But something stopped him. Was it hesitation? Timidity? Fear? Whichever, it kept him in this state. Filling himself with the tar from his smokes instead of those feelings she could give. The touch of her fingers on his face. The knowledge of comfort in her arms. She was not perfect. No one was ever perfect. But if he could just face her, talk to her, understand her, and gain that proximity he wanted. Would that not be better? Stephen, you fool. What are you doing? What are you doing to yourself? What are you doing Terry? What are you doing to yourself? Why are you trying not to think about it? I ...

I needed to clear my head for a moment. "Hey guys, I'm going to grab some beer. Anybody want one?" I asked the others, standing.

"Grab me and Padma one man," Michael said, speaking for the first time. The others shook their heads, and stayed mostly silent. I assumed they were uninterested.

"Cool. Will do."

The beer was hidden on the stands on the other side of the pitch. I needed to pass through the other circles to reach it. There were only about a dozen pockets of people with varying sizes. Colours of all the different houses were present. Each represented by a number of their students. Which was unsurprising, most of the players on the Quidditch teams in the later years were still here. Either celebrating their victory or nursing their loss.

The group closest to us were a bunch of Gryffindor kids. Harry Potter stood, with the others' attention held on his actions. It sounded like he was telling a story, but I could not hear clear enough about what. Ron sat next to Harry's side, chiming in every couple of words. Lavender leaned her head on Ron's shoulder; her hair draping over his chest. I recognized Dean rolling a joint, Seamus and Fay were touching each other intimately enough to make others uncomfortable -hands nestled intimately-, and Parvati talking with a girl from the seventh year whose name eludes me.

Only on the second glance did I notice Hermione. She sat tucked in beside Dean. Her face was buried in her knees. Wrapped up in a ball. With her head leaning downwards, her hair covered her face. She was trying hard to hide; surrounded by others. I only noticed her by the green army jacket she wore. The others did not pay much attention to her presence. Dean's focus was intent on rolling. Ron and Harry were on the other side of the group; their story not concerned with her. She looked like a aberration, an unnatural growth on their numbers. Alone.

If she wasn't so well tucked into the Gryffindor group, I'd have walked over to her. Perhaps share a word. Check to see if she was doing okay. It was unlike her to be out late at one of these parties. She usually left early before the alcohol was brought out. She didn't like to associate herself with it. Didn't seem like she was enjoying associating herself with them now too. Why was she hanging around? The autumn air was cold and wet. Must have been awful sitting in the grass with no distraction. Her army jacket did not look warm either. A light piece of clothe blocking the weather. What was she left with? What was she doing? Performing a consummation of anxiety and social alienation?

There was not much I could have said anyways. Her problems would not have disappeared with my words. Still, sometimes help is appreciated. Someone reaching out with interest can be useful: to connect. Maybe to even understand each other, but that may be too high of a standard. It was a common problem really. This distance we let build between us. Even just to bridge a small part; allow for some communication. We could help each other. If I could just speak to Stephen about Luna. Get him to understand my point. Push him towards where he should go. Where he wants to go. Stop running away from those problems. Hermione needed the same nudge, I was sure. She seemed alone in that circle. Why was no one giving her that attention? The attention she deserved. A gentle suggestion really. It's what I needed at least. Please, just, let me. If he, I wanted ...

"Terry!" a voice greeted from behind me.

I turned around to see Draco standing with his hands on his sides. He wore a suit jacket and tight pants. The jacket looked tailored, hugging his shoulders tightly. His blonde hair emitted a light glow in the night; reflecting the light around it. A black cigarette hung between his lips. His arm was outstretched, and we shook hands.

"Hey Draco, how's it going?"

"Well. It's going well Terry. You headed to the beer?"

"Yeah."

"Great, so am I. Walk with me."

We turned our trajectory towards the stands. Draco stayed a foot in front of me. There was a force in his step, but also a small bounce. Like a jovial kid built up with excitement. The remnants of the adrenaline from the Quidditch match, I'm sure. Slytherin had only grasped victory in the last second of a real nail biter game against HufflePuff. "Congratulations on the victory man. It was really down to the wire."

"Can't help but feel good about it. I played well. My boys played well. Blaise was a fucking beast. HufflePuff played great too, but we were better. It's always sweeter when we defeat such a great opponent." Draco spoke in speeches, but in a personable way. The joy was evident on his face. He smiled beneath the cigarette as he inhaled. Burning red in the dark. "Makes me feel good. Glad to be a Slytherin. Proud to be a Slytherin. Happy to have given Slytherin the victory it deserved. It's tough, when you feel the pressure of the house on your shoulder. You know that better than most Terry."

"How do you mean?" I asked. I knew Draco mostly through the brief conversations we shared at these sorts of parties. It was rare to face Draco alone; either he or I usually had a small crowd with us. His demeanour was more causal than usual. The arch of his back curved, instead of the straight posture Draco was always assuming. Although, this may have been from the exhaustion and alcohol, and not our more intimate association.

"You know. I mean, sure, you don't have any official authority or responsibility like us captains, but that's irrelevant. I may not be from Ravenclaw, but I can still hear them speak. People look up to you. People respect you. That's what important. For us, our actions reflect all of houses, when we're within their walls or not. It's a gift, really. But, nevertheless, its tough to have the weight of that responsibility on our shoulders."

"You think I have that?"

"Sure I do! Roger may be the captain of your Quidditch team, but the guy's a brute who would fit in better with the HufflePuff goons. No one respects him. I'm sure you don't."

"Roger's a nice guy." That was a lie. Roger was a seventh year with a bone to pick with everyone. He was always on edge; looking for violence to share. Calling him a brute was apropos. Roger never particularly liked me. We avoided each other at parties. He did not like that I never tried out for Quidditch. With my height, I had the body of a good keeper. No one would have been able to get by me. Never really interested me though; Quidditch was a not a sport I liked to play. Roger took this personally. "Well, maybe he's not. He is sort of an asshole."

"Exactly. That's what I mean. People don't give a shit about him. They give a shit about you."

"You take this stuff seriously."

"Damned right I do. Someone has to. Image is power. You'd be a fool to ignore those influences. Like I said, it's a gift. And this gift means you and I are not concerned just with ourselves, but our house too. You get what I mean?"

I'm not sure I understood all of it, but the sentiment was evident enough. "Yeah. I get you." Was that why I was scared of facing myself? Because I was not facing just myself, but everyone? My whole house would be affected. Everything would change. Every action and reaction would be painted. I did not want that. I liked how I was. How things were. Could things not stay the same? Could I, maybe, try to, maybe ...

We arrived at the stands, and crossed over a couple of the benches. All of the seats were covered in the evening dew. Sucking into our clothes as we walked over. The beer was in a cooler on the third row, because the cooler needed to be in a high row to not to be visible from the pitch. A safety precaution. The stash was the culmination of the different Quidditch team's assortments of beer. I grabbed a bottle for myself, and slipped two cans for Michael and Padma into my wool coat's pocket.

Draco grabbed a can, and opened it on the bench. "So I hear you've been hanging out with Nott."

"Yeah." I replied. I opened the bottle of beer, following Draco's lead.

"Cool," he said. He tossed his black cigarette off of the stands and took a large sip from his can. "Nott's a cool guy. Weird. Weird guy, but cool. Good to see him hanging out with people who can be a good influence. Instead of those other assholes."

I wondered who Draco was referring to. The kids from Slytherin Nott hung out with the year before? But those were Draco's own friends. Did Draco not hold a positive view of them? "I see you're an influence yourself," I said referring to the black cigarettes I'd seen Nott with before. I pointed at the butt Draco had just thrown.

"You mean the smokes? Yeah, that's recent. We've started going on long smoking breaks in the courtyard by Slytherin at night. Good to clear our heads. Talk out our problems. Sometimes you need to talk to someone outside of the drama, at least to organize your thoughts. Nott's good for that. Sharp kid. Good at pointing out my bullshit. Guess he picked it up there."

"Nott's good for catching people on their shit. Better than most people I know. He ever talk about himself?"

"He does. He does. That stuff about his girls, and all the problems involved with them."

"His girls?"

"You know, the other two you hang out with. Hannah and Hermione." Draco replied. His girls, that was a cute moniker. I wonder if Nott called them that. Could the same be said about me? Were they my girls too? No. Not in the same way. Maybe I could have my boys; my boy; him ...

I took another sip of my beer. Draco knew Nott in a completely different fashion than I did. It was fascinating to hear about things from his perspective. "Anything in particular? If you don't mind me asking. I know that sounds a little bit nosey."

"You probably know more than I. Nott often avoids the details. He's been pretty shaken up lately though. I," Draco stopped mid sentence, putting down his beer on one of the stands. He took out his pack of cigarettes, and brought one to his mouth. I cupped my hands around his mouth to help him light it. The wind was cold and cutting. Blowing the fire from his wand. Once lit, he inhaled deeply. "Look Terry, I'm telling you this because I think it's to Nott's benefit. I know you won't walk your mouth off about it. Don't break my trust okay?"

"Yeah, sure." I replied. "You know I'm cool." What was Draco talking about?

"Cool," Draco said. He inhaled. Let the smoke slowly crawl out his mouth. Dissipating in the air. "Nott's scared. He's never really had friends. Never really connected with anyone in that way. And, he'll never admit it, but he's terrified. Terrified of fucking it up. I think it's holding him back. He was shaken up about saying something to the girls. Didn't get into specifics. I bet it was not so bad, but Nott's fragile. Keeps talking to himself like he's ruining things. Like, saying he should walk away. I think he cares about them, but doesn't know how to face failure."

"I think he cares too," I added. Nott was always quiet. I knew he was scared to face us, hiding behind his sunglasses, but I never pegged him for such a conflicted individual. He was always calm. "I'm not really sure where all of that's coming from. He hasn't done anything wrong." Wrong, seemed like a strange word in this context. Could Nott do wrong? Seemed more wrong to be afraid of doing anything; afraid of thinking he could wrong; afraid of himself. Although, couldn't the same be said for ...

"It's the threat that bugs him. Nott's a good guy, but he gets himself in these mindsets. Destructive things which he just drowns himself in. Try to look out for him, alright? Like, not in a protective way. Nott doesn't need your shit. He doesn't need you to save him. But just try to look out for him; like notice him. Otherwise he'll lose himself. He's seemed happier lately than I've ever seen him. It would be nice for that to continue."

"Sure," I said.

"Cool." Draco picked up his beer from the bench, and walked back towards the pitch.

I stood watching Draco leave. He cared more for Nott than I expected. They sat together in all of their honours courses, but I had always thought that was more of a convenience than a choice. I guess they were closer than I imagined.

Taking another sip from my beer, I started to follow Draco towards the ground. Needed to give Michael and Padma their beer. When I got onto the grass, Draco had already reached the Slytherin group. Planting a small kiss on Pansy's neck. I turned my attention towards the Ravenclaw group, but before I could head in their direction I was interrupted.

"Hey Terry." The second time I'd been greeted from behind. I turned around to see Ernie leaning on the side of the stands. My heart skipped a beat.

Ernie was a good foot shorter than me. One of the smaller boys in our years. He had thick auburn hair which curled at the edges. His face was round and looked full of mischief. The rest of his body followed a straight skinny line. He wore a black peacoat and blue jeans.

"How's it going? Having a good night? Too bad about HufflePuff losing." I greeted.

"It's alright. Don't really care much about who wins. My interest in Quidditch this year has largely been limited to the parties afterwards. The team knows how enjoy themselves. This party's been a stinker though. Too fucking cold and wet." Ernie answered. He rubbed one of his arms, and kept his stare mostly focused on the ground. The nerves were evident. I knew what was coming.

Instead of facing it, I kept the conversation moving instinctually. "I hear that. Not sure why we didn't move inside after the sun went down. No one from Ravenclaw was willing to hear my protests. Where's Hannah by the way? Didn't see her out here tonight."

"She's doing something else. Said it was more important than the game. Not sure what specifically. Told me as I was leaving to get to the game. Didn't have a chance to ask." His words started to trail. "Hey Terry. I wanted to ask you something." he said in barely a whisper.

My chest sank. The anticipation built. The inside of my stomach felt like decayed teeth. The whole of my body was affected. Like a wave overcoming me. And instead of floating, I felt pulled to the bottom. The weight of the water keeping me down. Slowly running out of air. Never felt such a physical reaction before. My vision blurred; I was scared.

Ernie continued. "I know Hannah already talked to you about it. She can't keep anything from me. I," he paused, trying to express himself. "I think you're really great. Like, just," he paused again. His gaze stayed towards the ground. The syllables in his words broke down.

I felt like all of my emotions shot forward to the front of my face. My muscles contracted, and I felt the force pushing forwards. Trying to escape my mind. Ruining my train of thought. Ruining me.

"I wondered if you wanted to go with me to the Halloween Ball. Like on a date. I think that would be really great."

I, I, I ...

"No."

I felt like I watched in a silent horror as the words escaped my mouth. I wanted to catch them, and bring them back to my lungs. It was a gut reaction. All my body allowed me to do. I wanted to tear apart my fears and face this part of me. Fuck the consequences! I could act how I wanted. By my own accord. But the fear was too crippling. My jaw locked in my mouth. I felt trapped in myself. Trapped in my own fucking miserable scared self. Trying to run away instead of face my fears.

"No?" Ernie repeated slowly; hurt. I silently screamed.

"Fuck, not no!" I was finally able to let out of my mouth as a raspy whisper. "But not yes." I rubbed my hand over my face desperately. "I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry." My breathing started to build. The bulge of my chest ached. "I like you Ernie. You're great. I just don't know if I'm ready to face myself like that. I know it sounds cliche, but it's me. There's no one who I'd want to go to the Ball with more than you. No one. Just, just give me some time to think about it. Let me think, okay? Okay?"

Trying to feign a smile, but failing, Ernie reached his hand onto my shoulder. "I know it's tough, right? Just let me know if you change your mind."

With that he turned away from me, and walked back towards the school. It must have taken so much courage to ask me. Far more courage than I had. I stayed still, trying to refigure my thoughts, but they were muddled together in spiral cutting deep into my being. I felt like a mess. Numb.

Since Hannah had told me, I don't think if I had really thought about my response. How I would face it, when the time came. I fucked up. But I didn't know what else to do. Saying yes would have changed everything. I couldn't let that happen. Right? That was my only option. I was not sure. I always felt like I was towering over everyone. Looking down and observing their actions, problems, fears; only now I felt like I was falling. Like I no longer had my support to stand. Like I ...

I started to walk back to the Ravenclaw circle. I shared no glances with anyone. My eyes stayed locked on the ground; nailed to my feet. I felt ashamed to move. I wanted to crawl into a ball and die. What an asshole, right? That's how I felt at least. I couldn't remember the last time I felt like this; the last time I let something cut so deeply inside of me. The last time I let someone read my pages; take me off the shelf and try to read my words. Now I cried that ink, because it did not help anything. Some good it did! I still hurt anyways.

I passed Michael and Padma their beers, and retook my seat between Stephen and Sue. There was no applause this time. No chants, or words of encouragement. I did not want to talk to anyone. Wanted to be alone.

I felt sick to my stomach. Disgusted with myself in some deep intimate way. When was the last time I felt something intimately? How absurd was it that I never felt intimate with myself. Shouldn't nothing be more intimate than yourself? Why did I feel like a stranger in my skin? Like I was conversing, and only learning through that dialogue. Only becoming away of my own language: my private language. With its intricacies and details and subtleties and meanings and feelings and wants and hates and wishes and and and and and pains.

I buried my head in my knees, and silently sobbed. I ... I ...

...

Author's Notes: I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. My desire was to have a chapter about Terry avoiding the issue with Ernie, only to be faced with it unexpectedly at the end. I'm not sure if I captured that, but this will have to do.

I wrote out an entire first draft of the chapter, only to completely rewrite it. Starting from scratch was annoying but necessary. I want to give you all the best I can. A labour of love, I guess.

Thank you to all of the reviewers. Your kind words are appreciated.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	8. Concerning Those Words You Hide

Chapter 8: Concerning Those Words You Hide

"Terry," Hannah spoke in front of Ravenclaw. She stood alone. Wore a large shirt which hung below her waist and navy blue sweatpants. The look was unrefined. Had an uncharacteristic messiness to it. I wondered if these were the clothes she slept in. Was she interrupted? Sorry about that Hannah. Surprised she did not wait until morning. Ernie meant a lot to her, if she sought me out now.

Her hair was different too: a bright red.

I was wild eyed and drunk. I had decided to race the whiskey bottle with Anthony. Kept myself medicated with as much alcohol as possible. Hoped to become etherized. Tried to smother those emotions which fought inside of me. It was easier that way. I felt less like a failure; less like a coward; less like a piece of shit. My brain was muddled. Didn't fix anything though. My problems did not go away. I was just buying time before I needed to deal with them. Putting a delay in my life.

"Hey Hannah," I tried to speak. The words slipped out of my mouth. Hannah brought back those issues to the foreground. There was no other reason she would be here. No good reason to wait for me in front of Ravenclaw at night, other than those words I shared with Ernie. I wanted to roll up in a ball and hide; now there was no way to avoid it.

"Hello Hannah. Terry's a little drunk," Stephen added. He had kept me company on our walk back to Ravenclaw. The others wanted to stay on the pitch. I felt sickly there. Padma and Michael with their silent affection; Anthony and Lisa whose hands were starting to explore each other. Their fondness grew my budding dissatisfaction into a flowering anger. How easy they could act! Why were mine so difficult? What they did was 'normal'. Why could I not be 'normal'? I either needed to conform to their world -use their words-, or change everything. It felt unfair. And I couldn't do anything to stop it. My hands were tied. Rooted in myself. Made me feel helpless.

Luckily, Stephen noticed my negative feelings and suggested heading back. We walked in silence the whole way. Glad he did not ask me about my feelings; I did not feel like sharing them. The silence was the closest we'd connected since the Luna incident. Both of us understood each other in that silence. He finally realized there were other things more important, more damaging, to me than Luna. And also accepting that it was not something I felt like sharing. We never could connect when we spoke and used the others' language. Silence was the only place we could find understanding.

"I see that," Hannah commented on my appearance. "I was hoping to speak for him a moment. You mind giving us some privacy Stephen?"

"Yeah sure." Stephen flashed Hannah a smile. His quiff folded on top of his head. The tight white shirt hung to his chest, under the ugly red jacket he wore. He had been quiet throughout the night. Holding onto his words. Kept his suffering to himself. Wish I could hold on too. Instead of the free-fall I'd been tossed into. "He's your problem now. And Hannah, I like the new look."

"Thanks Stephen."

Stephen entered Ravenclaw, leaving the two of us alone. His comment was true. Hannah looked great. The new hair colour accented her short hair. Her face looked refined and wild: a complimentary contradiction. Even in her awful looking clothes, she looked well made. The piercings detailed the look; her new nose ring a nice touch. Hannah knew how to present herself, even if she liked to pretend she looked good by accident.

"Lets walk somewhere more private." Hannah commented, as Stephen disappearred into the door. I silently agreed. No reason to fight here. Might as well try to avoid others. I followed along as we walked down a corridor and into a dark stairwell. We moved into a corner away from the door. Her body an inch away from mine. "What the fuck Terry!" She exclaimed in the loudest whisper she could produce. The anger evident on her face. "I asked you not to hurt him!"

The anger which was budding back on the pitch returned. "I don't see how this is any of your business Hannah." I spit back. "And what? was I not allowed to say no?"

"Don't be like that. Ernie's business is my business. And I was the one who told him he had a shot with you. This whole thing is my doing. It's all my business." She spoke quickly. "And, and of course you were allowed to say no. But you did not say no!" She poked my chest with her finger. "You strung him along. Giving him a bunch of false hope. He was mumbling about still having a chance. That's not a no. That's cruel, and hurtful. Do you not know how much it's going to hurt him when he realizes you are bullshitting him?"

The frustration of the night built up inside me. I did not want to have this conversation. I did not want to explain myself. I did not want to give excuses. Instead, I charged back. "Don't give me that shit Hannah. You act like you're above this. But I see what you're doing. What you're doing to Nott. How can you judge me when you're just as guilty."

"How do you mean?" She asked.

"It's pretty obvious. Even an idiot could recognize how close the two of you have been. You spend all that time together. And all of your changes since that late night visit: the short hair; piercings; and now your dyed hair. What are those for? And yet you shrug Nott off. Insist to go to the Ball alone. You're the one who's fucking giving mixed signals. Don't paint me as the only bastard in the room. You fit the definition too."

"I'm not stringing him along. Sure, I like him, but we just wouldn't work."

"How so?"

The anger in her voice dimmed. Turning her tone into a cry for help. "I have this thought in my head right? I have this thought that I'm doing all of these changes for myself. They're not for him, or anyone. The short hair, piercings, red's always been my favourite colour. But I know that's not completely true. Still, I want to hold onto the idea. And if I go with Nott, then I'd be admitting I'm not. I'd no longer be this fucked up girl looking for her own self. I'd be this quirky shit trying to help him break out of his mold. And I don't want that. I don't want that for me or for Nott." Hannah said.

"Those are some nice excuses you have there. Do you have any intention of actually telling him any of that? Or is he just supposed to 'get it' with your confusing signals. Perform his role in your plan by breaking his heart?"

Hannah's face cringed. The lines of her face tightened. "Fuck you Terry." But as the words left her mouth, the firmness softened. She dropped her shoulders, and leaned against the wall. She repeated again, but weaker, more delicate. "Fuck you Terry. I don't know. You think I want this?"

"You think I want this either?"

My anger broke. We shared a silence. The emotions came in force. Folding down my barriers. I did not feel like fighting anymore. My body contracted. My legs gave way. And I sat down on the ground. For the first time in the night, I felt tears on my face. A real signal of what I had been trying to hide. What I had been trying to bury, smother, kill: I was sad.

My fear was built on the fear of change. But I needed change! Cause I was not happy where I was. All of these friends of mine. Were they friends? Did I enjoy their company? Sure. But not in a filling way. Not in the way my arms ached at night. The way my book rested on the shelves, hoping to be read. I wanted it; needed it. And every excuse I tried to give, to explain away my desire, was a lie. Nothing was more true. Nothing scared me more too.

"Hannah. Listen to me. I'm sorry about bringing up Nott. That wasn't my place. And, I'm sorry about Ernie. I wasn't trying to string him along. Truly I wasn't. It's just. When he asked me, my gut reaction was fear. All I allowed myself to do was say no. Not because I wanted to. It's just. I don't know."

I continued. "You have to understand that everything would change for me. Not exclusively in a negative way, but in a real way nonetheless. I'd no longer be 'Terry'. I'd be the gay guy. Each conversation would be painted by it. Each time they would refer to me. All of their talks behind my back would be about it. None of them would look at me the same way. None of our interactions would be the same."

Hannah, herself calm, sat down next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder, and with a delicate voice spoke "Are you sure Terry? I think a lot of people wouldn't be affected by it. I sincerely doubt the Study Group would be affected. Others might not as well."

"Maybe not the study group." I said "But we barely have anything to change. I can't say the same about those guys," I pointed in the direction of Ravenclaw. "I know those guys. I know their language. I know that house. I am that house." I remembered the words Draco and I shared earlier on the pitch. "And I won't be anymore if I come out. I'll change from Ravenclaw, to gay in Ravenclaw."

"Is it worth it though? To continue living a lie, just to keep your social standing?"

"But Hannah," I paused, as I felt the words slowly crawl out of me. The alcohol lowering my usual self censorship. "That's all I have." The sentence came out as a cry. A truth I was trying to avoid. An admission of guilt to a victimless crime. A crime I committed to myself. "I don't, I don't have friends. Close friends. Not like you and Ernie. No one to talk to. Who even knows who I am. If I lose those others, then I have nothing left. You have Ernie. Someone you can depend on. I don't."

"Terry," Hannah started, but I interrupted.

The words came in a stream. Rushing forward in a torrent. Uninhibited thanks to the alcohol I had consumed. "I know it sounds strange coming from me. But I can't remember the last time I've had a talk. Like a real talk. One which was not concerned with having a laugh, or mediating something between others. A talk about me." A talk using my words, my language. "A real talk. Talk about real human emotions."

I continued. "I like Ernie. I really like Ernie. He's a great guy. Doesn't put up with others' bullshit. He's cute too. A little short, but I like short. It's just, I don't know. I need, I need help. I need someone to talk to. Someone who will help me get comfortable with myself. Admittedly, you're right. It's not worth it. I'm not happy with how it is now. I just. I don't know how to deal with it. I want to. I just don't know how."

Hannah finally interjected "why can't Ernie do that? I'm sure that's what he wants. To connect with you. Mean something to you. You'll never do what you want if you cut him off. You don't let him get closer to you. If you want him to, that is."

"Maybe. Maybe he can." A small shiver rolled down my back. It was true. Ernie could satisfy those urges which decayed my brain. Which broke down those walls I kept up around me. Thinking about it, though, brought the fear back. "But it can't, won't happen in an instance. You can only gain that through time: time and work. And I'm not sure if I'm willing to, you know, jump into it expecting it to happen right away. What if it doesn't work out? What if we just don't work that way? What if we just don't connect, or get along. The damage will already have been done. I already won't be able to go back. Everything will have already changed."

"There's a necessary amount of risk involved in getting close to someone Terry. You'll never do it, if you're not willing to put a little bit of yourself on the line."

"I just, I just wish there was an option with less risk. I have this image in my head of the whole affair failing spectacularly. And I don't want to face that. The image turns my stomach. Cuts into me. If things were different. If I could be with Ernie without this chance of failure, then I would. I know I would. In a flash. But I can't now. Not like it is." I felt my side. The beating of my heart hit the edges of my ribs. An uncontrollable force fighting within me. Hurting.

Hannah put her head into her hands. Her breaths slowed. "You're dreaming Terry. Dreaming a wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. I've imagined, and imagined, and imagined a boy who could understand me. Held onto the picture. But it's just as much of a fantasy as yours. They don't exist. You'll never find a situation without risk. And if you turn every risk into this horrible beast which can ruin you, you'll never be able to face any risk."

"I, I," Hannah tried to say. "I understand. Or at least, in a way. You have no idea what Nott means to me. How's he's been the focus of my dreams. How I steal glances at him whenever we're in the same classroom. How I can't get him out of my head. How he makes me feel." Hannah grabbed the inside of her thigh. Her hand shaking. "But I can't. I just can't. Not now. Not how I am. Cause I can't think of him outside that fucking image I have in my head. I can't think of him other than that fantasy of a boy understanding me. But it's nothing more than a fantasy. A fucking lie. And I would just end up being hurt by his inability to meet my unreasonable standard, and he would be hurt cause he could never satisfy me. He'd never be good enough. And he'd try to be; fight for it. Hope in the back of his mind that he could be good enough. And that would destroy him. I feel awful. Makes me feel like a piece of shit. I keep trying to look at him differently. But every time those same feelings come back to me. I can't get them out." Her face cringed. The bottom of her lip shook. The words turned into a weep. "I need to change. I need to change first. Before I could even imagine the two of us."

Hannah seemed so fragile. Like delicate glass sculpture, letting you see through it. Which could shatter with only the push of your hand. Beautiful though; a wonderful sculpture. The kind you're thankful to have experienced. Thankful to have the opportunity to get close to. I brought her into a hug. Her slender body small within my long arms. She continued, "so I understand. I get that you can't look at it another way. I get that you wish it were different. But wishing won't make it better. Wishing only leads to tears on your pillow. You have to try. Please, if not for Ernie, for yourself."

My voice became soft, small. "But how? I don't know how Hannah."

The two of us sat in silence, still in the embrace. The space between us small. I could feel her chest rise as she breathed. I wonder where her thoughts travelled. All I could think about was dancing. Dancing with Ernie. Never though about what it could be like with him before. The imagine in my head was amusing. Ernie taking lead, despite his smaller shape. Awkwardly spinning me under his small arms. Chuckling as I had to lean downwards to fit under his reach. It was cute though: endearing. He had the most amazing smile in the thought too. One of those pure smiles. The ones which can't be avoided in moments of comfort and joy. When you feel right. The best kind of feeling really. A feeling I wished so hard to experience. I had the smile too, in that little thought. A smile and tears.

"What if," Hannah started to speak. She sat up straight, breaking free from my grip. "What if we go as a group? We'll go as the Study Group. And Ernie can come with us. That way you two can go together, get to know each other a little more, and you can try to determine if it will work out. Whether each other is worth it. Try. And if we go as a group, the social implications won't be obvious. You can keep it a secret for longer. And if it does not work out, that's okay. You can return to your normal social situation if you wish."

"I don't know. You think Ernie would be up for it?" I asked.

"Well, I can ask him. There's no guarantee, he seemed really shook up tonight. But, he's liked you for a while. I'm sure he'd like the chance. Kept talking about you changing your mind when he came in. I can't promise with certainty, but I can promise I'll try."

My first reaction was hesitation. But for a moment I overcame, and said "okay." I swallowed. Fighting back those doubts. Hannah was right. I needed to face these fears. I wanted change. This was a good compromise. The risk did not feel so apparent. I felt like I could back out, if things turned sour. Thank you, Hannah. Thank you so much.

"Great, I should probably head back. I'll let you know what Ernie says tomorrow." Hannah flashed me a smile.

I smiled back. "Okay."

We shared a hug and parted ways. I headed back to Ravenclaw with more confidence. Maybe things could turn out alright. Maybe things could be okay. Maybe, at least, I could try.

I entered the sixth year's boy dorm in the dark. The rest of the students had returned during my conversation with Hannah. I stripped down, and lied in my bed. The conversation playing back in my mind. Recollecting those words we spoke. The first time I could remember talking about that: those real human emotions. About me and not others. Speaking my words: my language.

I grabbed my wand, and whispering quietly I spoke a small incantation. With a flick of my wrist a small golden sunflower grew before me. Greeting the future. Speak, come dawn.

...

Author's Notes: Terry's chapters have proven to be difficult to write. I had to rewrite the beginning of this chapter many times before it felt 'right'. I'm actually pleased how the chapter turned out. Better than I had expected it. I hope you liked it too.

There will be one more chapter in Terry's story. I'm not too busy the next couple of weeks, so hopefully I'll be able to update a little more regularly. Between the last chapter and this one, I wrote a short little Nott/Hermione story. It's in a different style than The Study Group, but you might like to check it out if you want more.

I wanted to say a heartfelt thanks to all of the reviewers and their kind words. I appreciate everyone who has spent their time leaving even the smallest remark. If this chapter recieves two reviews, then the Study Group will be the most reviewed story I've ever written. Thank you for coming along on this journey. It's more fun together.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	9. A Bright Day

Chapter 9: A Bright Day

The room was empty when I awoke. The beds were unmade, and clothes lied on the floor. Stephen was the only other person in the room. He sat by the windowsill smoking in his magical shell. I held my wand tightly between my fingers; I fell asleep with it that way. My mouth felt arid. I was dehydrated. Drained from the night before. The after effect from my alcohol consumption. The edges of my mouth were rough and sharp. Cutting into my gums with each breath. I needed some water, to soften and smooth.

I got up from the bed; dressed myself; slipped my wand into my pants pocket. I walked over to Stephen. His quiff was kept; his shirt tight. He sat on the windowsill with one foot on the ground, and the other knee close to his chest. I could not remember the last time it was only the two of us in the dorm room. People were always moving, always talking, using their words –their language-. There was never a moment of silence in the Ravenclaw dorm. Never a moment of stillness. It felt so quiet. The two of us alone. Felt still like standing water. Fragile enough to be broken with the slightest touch.

"Good morning Stephen," I spoke. The words dragged out of my mouth, sounding closer to a muted croak.

"Afternoon, good afternoon Stephen." Stephen muttered the correction, his cigarette between his lips.

"What?"

He inhaled, and took the smoke away from his mouth. Exhaling, a small cloud disappeared into the air. "It's the afternoon man. You've been sleeping like a rock. We tried to get you up to grab food, but you just mumbled incoherently and brushed us off."

"Really? I have no memory of that." I sat down on the windowsill next to Stephen. The upper year dorms were near the top of the Ravenclaw tower. We could see for miles. The Quidditch pitch, and the lake were both in view. The sun was out today. Shining down on us; beating down on the windowsill. It made everything glow. A light muted glare wherever my eyes landed. Like everything was laid down with gems. Speaking about the beauty in the world -the beauty in me.

"Trust me." Stephen chuckled. "We had a nice laugh about it."

"Glad I could be a source of entertainment. I guess I was just exhausted. Needed to recharge my batteries, you know?" I had not thought about how the night before affected me physically. I was emotionally exhausted, sure, but was that the same as physically? Was my body trying to tell me something? That emotionally exhaustion can be as dangerous as physical? My feelings may be more real than I sometimes imagine them.

"How late were you talking with that Hannah girl? That probably has something to do with it. I was waiting for you to come back in, but I kind of passed out quickly. Didn't get a chance to see you return." Stephen said.

"I'm not completely sure. I did not look at a clock or anything, so I can't say for certain. It did not feel like it was too long. Only a couple of minutes. We didn't have too much to say. Everyone was already asleep when I got back though, so I'm unsure on the specifics."

"What were you guys talking about last night by the way? It's not everyday a girl from another house accosts you in the middle of the night."

"Nothing really." I said, trying to deflect the conversation.

Stephen took out another cigarette. He motioned the pack towards me, but I waved it away. Stephen lit the tip and inhaled, burning a light red. As he exhaled, he spoke "that's bullshit. No one visits another house in the middle of the night to talk in private, and say nothing. You two were definitely talking about something."

"I'd rather not talk about it Stephen. It's private. Something between her and I."

Stephen laughed at the comment, and stared out of the window. His expression slowly turned from amusement to pain. As it changed he moved his hand before the side of his face, blocking my view. Ashamed of the truth written there. "You know Terry, it's funny. You're always one step ahead of me. Here I was, the last bit, thinking about that Hannah girl. You know, I really like her new look. I dig the short hair. It's cool. And you're already on that. Just like Luna. You're there before I have a chance."

"Stephen stop. It's not like that."

"Not like what? I haven't said anything. Just making a joke. Commenting on how fucking funny this whole thing is." His voice broke on the last syllable. He held his face in his hands. His shoulders shook slightly, as he tried to keep himself together.

In the moment, I was reminded how much of this mess was my own. I was purposefully misguiding him. What a friend I was! His pain was the product of my actions. The product of my misdirections. If I only admitted the truth. Told him about those parts of me he did not know. Those parts which led to our constant misunderstanding. Things could be fixed, or, at least, they could be better. Still, the fear built in my chest from the idea. My heart began to race as I considered the possibility. Could I do it? No. No.

"It's not like that Stephen!" I began. My words were harsh; the breaths cutting into my arid mouth. Felt like my mouth was filled with sand. "It's never been like that. Not for Hannah, and not for Luna. You're just imagining these things. There's nothing between us, not in the way you mean."

Stephen stared out the window. His gaze purposefully avoiding mine. Hoping to protect himself from my words, but also stopping us from understanding each other. We were speaking each others' language once more. "I'm imagining it? You think I didn't see Luna's postcard? That was just a figment of my imagination. And Hannah just accidentally dropped by here in the middle of the night, and accidentally asked to talk to you in private. Please enlighten me about how there's nothing between you. Terry, I'm your friend, stop lying to me."

Words crept on the tip of my tongue. Begging to be released. To be spoken in my language: Stephen, I'm gay. But I just couldn't say it! Damn! I felt trapped in myself. Locked in a cage. Begging to be let free; yelling curses: all silent: all within me. Just say it Terry! Say it! Instead, I just kept trying to deflect. "That postcard had nothing to do with me. Sure, she sent it to me, but it's not like I asked for it. Not like I told her I was interested in her. And my talk with Hannah was about someone else. Okay? If you're my friend, then you'd believe me. Not jump onto these assumptions. I swear Stephen, there's nothing between me and them. Nothing more than friendship."

I felt ready to reveal it all. To lay down my chips, and give the truth. Just to stop this game. This awful cycle of misunderstanding between the two of us. I wanted to know Stephen. And I wanted Stephen to know me. To actually know who I am. An understanding which was not built on these phoney assumptions. Truth, between the two of us. Wouldn't that be wonderful? The words started to repeat in my head: Stephen, I'm gay; Stephen, I'm gay; Stephen, I'm gay. My heart beat hard and fast, running out of my chest.

And then, my reason escaped. Stephen replied. "I'm sorry Terry. You're right." He inhaled. "I haven't been thinking straight. It wasn't right for me to accuse you there. I've just, I've had a lot on my mind. Been a little shaken up. But that doesn't stop me from being wrong. I trust you. You're the authority I have on your life. It's pretty silly to think I know it better."

My heart slowed. The words slipped off of my tongue and fell back into my throat. Maybe I did not need to say it now. Maybe it could be put off to another day. I was close to admitting it though. Which was good. Maybe that was a sign. I could do it. Some day in the future I would do it. Maybe my fear was subsiding. Maybe I was becoming more confident in myself. More willing to share who I really was. Maybe, maybe.

"Don't worry about it Stephen. It's partly my fault too. I never said anything. You had to work on your impression of the situation. I never gave an alternative. I should have said something, made things clear. I haven't been all there either. It's cool man."

Stephen inhaled a final breath off of the filter. The tip burnt dark and muddy. He nodded his head. "Yeah, sure."

We sat in silence for a minute. Both of us trying to work things out in our minds. Trying to articulate those feelings. Articulate them into words. Words part of our own private languages. So they meant something to us. So they felt real. Real and understood.

Stephen let out a laugh. "So, you think I have a shot with that Hannah girl?" He spoke jovially. The seriousness of the moment before was gone.

I replied with a bit of laughter myself. "I don't know. She seems like a tough fish to catch."

"That's too bad." Stephen put out his cigarette. "I hate challenges." We chuckled, like friends do. "I'm going to head downstairs to grab some food, you want to join me?"

"Nah, sorry man." I said. "I'm going to wash up and head down to the library. I'll see you later."

Stephen nodded in acknowledgement, jumped off the windowsill, and headed towards the door. I stayed still for a moment, watching him pass by. I promised myself. Promised that I'd admit the truth to him. Maybe not today, or soon, but eventually. He deserved to know me. To be allowed to get close to me. First though, I needed to know myself.

I headed to the boy's washroom and drank some water from the tap. The sensation was soothing. Nice to the touch. I splashed my face. A simple moment separate from the roller coaster of emotions. A break in the madness which had been filling my mind.

After drying myself off with a towel, I left Ravenclaw. Descending the stairs, I tried to clear my mind. My chest ached from the moment before. It pulled on the muscles, strained by the stress it just went through. I hoped the rest of the day would be easier. I was tired. Drained.

The library was nearly empty. People had more important places to be during the Halloween celebrations. The Quidditch tournament the night before was only the beginning. Small activities were scattered throughout the school. A nice break from the monotonous school life. The library, it seemed, was exempt from the excitement. It was still a room, full of unread books, and missed opportunities. The study group were the only ones to use its walls. To find a connection within the shelves.

The rest of the study group was already there. Hermione held her head down, entrapped in her Arithmancy text book. Nott leaned back into his chair. His head was folded back, staring towards the ceiling. Wearing those sunglasses once more. Hannah sat with her hands grasping each other. She had no book before her. The air between the three of them was silent. If they had been conversing earlier, then it had already ended. Now, they were merely existing. Despite sitting next to each other, they could have been miles away. A great distance within their proximity.

Hannah stood up quickly once I came into view. She was probably waiting for my appearance. The other two barely acknowledged my entrance. Their heads stayed still. Hannah's new bright red hair shone in the muted sunlight from the frosted windows. She seemed to glow. Like a candle holding the light in the room, or an angel emminating a holy light. Only, her smile brought the brightest glow of all. It was one of those smiles, you know. The ones which can't be avoided in moments of comfort and joy. It looked like a bright sunflower greeting the day.

"Terry!" She greeted. "I was wondering when you would show up."

I felt a moment of shame. "Sorry, I seemed to have slept in later than I hoped." I walked forward and joined them at the table. Sitting in my usual spot across from Hannah.

"That's okay."

We shared a silence. The other two stayed in their own worlds. "So," I said. My voice lost its confidence momentarily. A quick breath from the suspense. Hoping for good news. "What did Ernie say?"

With luck, Hannah's smile did not fade. It kept on her lips. Continuing to bless me with its rays. "He said yes!" she said with exultation. Her joy from the situation was apparent. A happy conclusion to our sour night. "But Terry," her voice turned serious for a second. "If you hurt him again, I swear." She sternly pointed at me.

"Yes, yes," I put my hands in the air as a sign of defence. "It won't happen again. At least, not for a bit."

The smile returned to Hannah. "Good enough! You want to tell them our plan?"

My usual confidence returned. I was back in control. The control which felt so comfortable. Where I felt the most like me. "Hey guys," I spoke, hoping to grab Hermione's and Nott's attention. "Guys!" I repeated, as they ignored me. Nott leaned his head downwards, momentarily moving his shades. Hermione turned her head from inside her book. I continued. "Hannah and I have made a plan. I was hoping you guys would go along with it. It'll be fun."

Nott moved forward in his chair, and rested his elbows on the table. Pulling off his sunglasses, he exposed to us his eyes. "Is it a good plan?" he asked. His voice sounded drawl.

"You bet it is." I exaggerated. Hermione looked back in her book, but I started to speak anyway. "Remember when we talked about the Halloween Ball? And none of us had any dates. Well, this got me thinking. Couldn't we do something fun with that? You know, a bunch of friends going stag. So I thought, why don't we go together? Everything's always more fun in groups. Not together in a date sense, but together in a 'fuck dates' sense. We're too cool for that shit. Above it. The study group versus the world. Hannah's already agreed, and even invited Ernie."

Nott rested his sunglasses on the table, and rubbed his face with his hand. Nott's hair was a mess, a black clump of hair on top of his head. He wore a thin black sweater with a deep V. "I'm not sure. Not used to going to these things with anyone."

"It really won't be much different from arriving with someone, you do that before?"

"Sure."

"Then what's to lose? The worse that can happen is you arrive with us, and then leave. Does punk rock stop you from being near people?"

"I think it clearly does," Nott spoke in a sarcastic tone.

"Come on Nott," Hannah interjected.

Nott looked at her, and a smile grew on the corner of his mouth. "Alright, what the hell. I guess you guys are cool enough."

I clapped my hands. "Great! And lets get this clear." I pointed my finger at Nott. "We're more than cool enough. We have surplus cool. You're lucky you get to be near such cool kids and get the leftover scraps."

"I guess so." Nott agreed. He put his sunglasses back on his face, and leaned back into his chair.

I turned my attention to Hermione. She seemed tense. I was reminded of her sitting with the rest of Gryffindor the night before. It had escaped my mind; my focus had been elsewhere. When she sat in the circle surrounded, but alone. Wrapped up in a ball. I regretted not talking to her. Giving her attention. Trying to understand her, and her words. I spoke, "what about you Hermione? You in as well?"

She stayed silent for a moment. Her head still glued to her book. And then, abruptly, she stood up and grabbed her book. "I'm sorry guys, I have to go," she spoke quickly under her breath. She turned and headed towards the exit of the library. Just as she had done the last time we spoke of the Halloween Ball. I turned to Hannah and Nott, who equally were looking at me. All of us unsure how to act. Hermione seemed so uncharacteristic. Something must have been bugging her. Something really digging into herself.

I stood up. Nodded at Hannah, and headed after Hermione. I was not going to let her go. To let those feelings muster and ferment within her. Thinning her blood, and making her stomach churn. That was no way to live. I knew that well. My long legs helped me move quickly. Closing in the gap between us. Once she had left the doorway, into the hallway, I cut her off. Standing in front of her, I said "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She turned her body and started to walk in the opposite direction. "Nothing's wrong." she insisted, moving away. Her stubbornness apparent on her actions. Unwilling to let me in.

Unfortunately for her, I was in no mood to let her get away. To continue in that negative state she had put herself in. She may have been stubborn, but I was more. I walked towards her and cut her off again. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said louder.

"Hermione, something's wrong. It's obvious."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit!" I commanded. I felt like Stephen, interrogating me earlier.

Hermione stood still this time, and did not try to escape. She hugged her book tightly against her chest. Letting her hair fall in front of her face. Instead of fighting, or snapping back, she stood there. Silently frozen in spot. Like a small marble statue, too afraid to move. I could hear her sniffling, behind her hair. Fighting back tears.

I brought her into a hug. This time, I asked gently. My voice was smooth and careful. "Hermione, what's wrong."

She spoke quietly. Barely more than a whisper. The confidence in her voice gone. Leaving a fragile stream, which could be blocked by the smallest of rocks. "It's stupid." she said. "It's so stupid. And childish. I don't. I don't know why I'm letting it get to me. It doesn't matter. Why should it matter? I'm only in highschool. It's only a crush. It's stupid. Why am I letting this get to me? I know better. I'm better than this. I know it doesn't matter. It's not real."

"Hermione," I said again, still soft. "Don't be like that. If it's affecting you this much, then it is real. There's nothing healthy in avoiding it. Now, what's wrong?"

"It's Ron." She choked on the words. "He asked Lavender to the Ball. Right in front of me, like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't important to him. Like he didn't feel that way to me. And. This is stupid. It's just a childhood crush. But I, every time I hear about the Ball, I just want to curl up and die. It's stupid."

"Stop saying it's stupid," I said with a little force. Then, almost regretting my harsh tone, I brought her into a deeper embrace. "It's stupid to think this is stupid. When something makes you feel like that, then brushing it aside will do no good. How is that supposed to help."

"I just," she began. "I just don't know how to face it. I, I feel so alone. I want to ask Harry and Ron for help. But they can't. Not about this. I'm on my own. And I don't know what to do." She sounded defeated. Like there was no other option available. Trapped in her situation. Trapped in her place. Like me.

You're in luck then," I said pushing her away from me. "It just so happens I'm free for the rest of the afternoon. And willing to listen to you pour your heart out. On one condition that is."

"What?"

"We have a talk, like a real talk about me. I really need to figure some things out myself. And, I think I could use talking to someone as well."

She kept her head hidden behind her hair, thinking over the option. Until she shot her head forward. "Deal," Hermione said, with glimpse of her usual confidence.

"Great," I said.

We walked out towards one of the courtyards outside. We sat on the grass, under the bright sun. I told Hermione about my night before. Those problems which festered in my head. The words I was afraid to speak. In turn, she told me about Ron, Gryffindor, and those 'stupid' feelings.

I had always felt alone, surrounded by people. In that moment, it was different. I felt connected. Like I could be understood. Speak my own words; speak my own language; truly express myself. No longer hiding those feelings from the postcards, but writing my own. Giving a response. Facing the world. Holding myself true. I could be with Ernie. I could figure that out. I'll dance with him at the ball. Hold his hands in mine. And I won't be ashamed of myself. I'll let the world know who I am.

I smiled. It was an amazing smile. One of those pure ones. I felt right. It was the best kind of feeling really.

...

Part 2: Terry's Story End

...

Author's Notes: Terry's Story has come to an end. What did you all think? Did you like it? Terry was a character who always fascinated me. In the study group, he is the character who is the most different from me. Which made him difficult, but also interesting to write. Like experiencing something new. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

The Study Group is now the most reviewed story I have ever written. I wanted to thank you all for that. It warms my heart to think there are those who enjoy my story.

The next chapter will be something a little different, before the start of the next story. Look forward to it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	10. Fifth Year

Chapter 10: Fifth Year

At the end of the fifth year, the library was empty. Students were finished their exams. They spent their time huddled together in the houses. Hoping to hold on to those fading moments. The last chance to speak those words. Those sentiments which built up inside. The library stood still, separate. A place distant from their hearts. Away from the students searching for a conclusion. A proper ending to year which was quickly turning into history.

_Hannah_

"I've always wondered what your dorm looked like," Ernie said, leaning on the door frame. His auburn hair twirled at the end. He wore blues jeans and a small black t-shirt.

Hannah sat at the end of her bed tying the laces of her boots. She wore a loose skirt high over her hips, and a white blouse which hugged her neck. The blouse, without sleeves, let Hannah's long arms be accented. Her body looked mostly made of features: limbs: arms and legs. The strands of her long brown hair dangled beside her face. "It doesn't usually look like this. There's far less clutter at the moment. Everyone has been packing today."

In the fifth year HufflePuff girl's dorm, beds were laid on opposite walls. Student's trunks were piled next to their respective beds. The surfaces were all bare. Everything was packed except for a couple necessities laid out. The girls were ready to leave in the morning. The year was almost over. Hannah felt ready to bring the events to the end. The morning had not painted the year how she would have liked to. Now, she felt like finishing these events, and moving forward.

"Well, I'm just happy to get this brief glimpse. Always bugs me that we can't spend time together in private here." Ernie commented. He moved forward from the door frame, and approached Hannah.

"There's reasons for those rules. Boys are a threat in the girls' dorm. Might cause sinful behaviour. As if some sex would kill us." Hannah said, focusing on finishing her preparation. Her red boots went up just below her knees. She held the laces, barely giving Ernie notice. He walked passed her, and started to examine her stack of trunks by her bed. It was difficult to be close friends of opposing genders. Being alone with each other was not easy.

"Even if sex was fatal, it's not like I would be a danger. I'm far more of a threat in the boys dorm than I am in here. If the reason for the strict separation is puritanical purity, then I should move in with you and the rest of the gals."

"Why don't you tell the faculty your situation. I'm sure they would be thrilled." Hannah finished with one foot, and moved to the other. She looked up momentarily to place where Ernie was, before refocusing her efforts.

Ernie let out a small chuckle at Hannah's comment. "I'm sure they would be." He moved on of her trunks to notice what was located under it. "Your paint set." He observed out loud. A small easel was placed next to a box filled with paints and brushes. The box was covered in Hannah's name and different paint strokes; Ernie recognized it from when they used to be in the HufflePuff art club. Where the two of them first connected. "You painted this year?"

"No, I didn't," Hannah said under her breath, without looking up. "I brought it with me at the start of the year, and it's just been collecting dust there since. I thought about doing some, sure, but every time I got it set up, I lost my motivation. I would just stand there, standing at a blank canvas. Embarrassed really, that I couldn't convince myself to paint anything. Although, I would probably be embarrassed by whatever I painted anyway, so there was no real loss there."

"That's too bad. I always liked your works. You really shouldn't be ashamed of anything you do."

"It's a nice sentiment, but that wouldn't stop me from feeling that way. No matter how many nice words you give, you wouldn't be able to convince me otherwise. Stupid as it may be." Hannah spoke.

"You liked the time that Cedric guy complimented your work. You worked harder after he said those things than ever before. Why does his words have an affect mine never could?"

"That was special." Hannah said. She finished tying the laces, and stood up from the bed. Ernie placed the trunk he moved back into place. Hannah moved her hand through her hair.

Ernie walked back into the door frame, and waited for Hannah to catch up. "You looking forward to tonight's party? Our first upper year event. I'm excited."  
>"It's pretty cool."<p>

"I hope there's some cute boys there, Terry especially. I think he likes me, you know?"

"You've told me a hundred times."

"Well, some things bare repeating. You looking forward to any cute boys yourself?" Ernie asked.

"Kind of feel like avoiding them, really." Hannah responded.

"Why's that?" Ernie asked, with concern in his voice.

"Wayne asked me out earlier. It was weird. Kind of unsettling really." She held her stomach. "He kept describing these big feelings. Like I really meant something to him. I'm not sure I've said more than a few words to him. How can he feel such big feelings if he doesn't know me."

"He must think he does."

"That, that kind of scares me."

"Understandably. We'll talk about it at the party. I think they're assembling in the main room."

"Okay."

The two of them moved to the main hall. John, a seventh year, stood on a table. He wore a black suit; ready to attend the funeral of his final year. In a loud voice, he told everyone the plan. The party was to be held in the south-east part of the school. He suggested the crowd move in small groups. It was easy to be undetected in smaller numbers.

John moved in the first group towards the party. Hannah stayed next to Ernie. They watched as the others left the house. As the final group of stranglers made their way, Ernie moved with them. Hannah joined the small collection. They headed through the hallway with muted steps. Trying to remain unheard, unseen, and unheard on their final night of the year.

Hannah felt glad to welcome the new year. The party felt like a birth to her, and not a death. A sample of the future to come. She did not like the silence though. Wayne's confession of love played back in her head. He thought there was something special between them. She barely knew there was anything between them. If she talked more with him, maybe it would have been avoided. He could have realized their was nothing between them. Would have saved both the current heartbreak. Now, she felt like she was walking somewhere, somewhere she did not know. Maybe though, people would understand her better there. Not in the way Wayne misunderstood her. That was all Hannah wanted. A place to be. Someone to really know her.

_Terry_

A silence filled the common room of Ravenclaw. Terry sat alone in the large room. This was not the way he had intended to spend his last night. His breaths were heavy. Pushing down on his chest. It felt like he had run a mile, when he had not left this spot. The lights were dim. A flickering flame in the fireplace was the only source of light. He could feel the glow of the flames dancing on his face. How did it end like this? His arms stretched across the top of the couch. The muscles ached. A punishment for letting things playing out like they did. Why did it end like this?

The night had begun similar to others. People were sharing their goodbyes. Telling stories of their plans for the coming summer break. Each person had a small adventure they looked forward to. The room was filled with life then. Buzzing with noise. People filled with hope. Terry did not feel much of that now. The silence felt deafening.

Sue Li sat with him before. She leaned her head on his chest. Unlike the others, she stayed mostly silent. Only joining in the conversation for brief moments. Usually to say a word or two, but never a full sentence. A word of acknowledgement or disagreement. Her tone always sounding noticeably disinterested. Something was wrong. She wore a long white shirt, and cotton pyjama bottoms. Her head nestled tight into Terry's side. As if to remind him of her presence. To make sure he did not forget.

As the others slowly started to move to their dorm rooms, she began to adjust herself. An anticipation building within her. She wanted them to be alone. The others were in the way. Terry was afraid she would snap. Blow up like a small bomb underneath him. Yell at Anthony to shut up. No one was really interested in his plans to visit France with his older brother. Terry was glad she did not. Would have caused a scene. She just sat with her head in his chest, continually adjusting herself, agitated and anticipating.

It took a few hours for everyone to leave. Terry could feel the tension which had built up in the room. His heart raced as the final person left. Knowing something was about to occur. Something he was not going to enjoy.

Alone, Sue finally spoke to him. "You know, you never mentioned me in any of your plans."

"We haven't made any plans."

"I know we haven't made plans! You could have at least said you were planning to make some." Her voice was restrained, but harsh. She was trying not to speak too loudly. Afraid of others overhearing.

"Sorry." Terry said. His tone neutral.

"Why haven't we made plans yet? The school year's almost over, and you haven't suggested anything. How are we supposed to make plans if we don't see each other?"

"We could send owls."

"Do you even know my address?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I don't know it off by heart."

Sue buried her head deeper into his side. Her head turned away from his. "I don't think you care about me Terry." The words came out slowly. Her voice was not sad. It sounded empty. Like an admission of defeat. When there is no hope left to win. "You keep telling me these nice things. But you never do anything! Nothing! Like that's all I am to you. A bunch of pretty words."

"That's not true," Terry tried to say. But he knew she was telling the truth. He had just been too afraid to face it.

"Really? Not true? How is it not true? Enlighten me!" She sat up abruptly. Her jaw was locked. Frustration built into the details of her face. "When was the last time you kissed me huh? Leaned in to give me kiss. Not just sitting still as I leaned into you. Huh? When? Never! That's when!" She yelled the last word. Embarrassed by her volume, she brought her hands to her mouth. The look in her eyes stayed fierce though.

"That's not a fair accusation Sue. If I try to give an example, you'll just say I remember it wrong."

"Of course I will, you'd be lying."

"Sue, I want to make this better. I can't if you talk like that."

"Fine." She said, standing up straight. Her hands glued to her sides, and her chin angled upwards. "Kiss me then. Kiss me like you mean it. Show me. Show me that you care about me. That will prove me wrong. We can continue on then."

Terry began to lean towards her. Intending to kiss her, and show how passionate he could be. But in that moment, he realized something. He realized just how much he needed to force himself. How unnatural the action felt. How he did not want to do it. He liked Sue. But he could not kiss her. Not in the way she wanted. Anything he could do would be a performance. Playing a role he did not want. It would be a lie. A lying kiss. His stomach churned. He could not do it. It felt wrong. He felt wrong.

His lips trembled. "No," he said. The words creeping from his lips like a plead for help.

Sue's emotions broke down. The frustration melted from her face. Leaving only weeps behind. She buried her head back in Terry's chest, staining it with tears. Terry felt like putting his arms around her, but she swatted away his movements. "Stay the fuck away from me." She yelled into his chest. Standing up, she tried to speak. "Has everything been a lie? Have you felt anything for me? Cared for me at all? All this time?"

"Sue," Terry tried to say.

"Fuck you Terry," she spit back. "I don't ever want to see you again!" She stormed out of the room, rushing back into the fifth year girl's dorm.

Terry stayed still. Kept company only by the fire. Flickering in the darkness before it died. His heart did not ache for Sue. He felt like he was on a distant island, isolated from the affair. Still, he knew he was responsible. She was hurt because of him. This was his fault; his fault he never cared for her. He breathed deeply. This was not the way he intended to spend his final night of fifth year.

_Nott_

Things felt different. Nott sat in the courtyard outside of Slytherin. His hand placed on his chest, counting the beats.

Something was wrong with Slytherin. He woke in panic this morning. The air was sour in his lungs. His arms shook. The beating of his heart raced. An urge built in the bottom of his stomach. A horrible dark feeling overtook his thoughts. Fears of death played in his mind. A desire pressing against the front of his face. Increasing in pressure as he tried to ignore it. Pushing him forward, until he could not take it any more. He jumped out of his bed, and dressed quickly. For a moment, he doubted he could put the clothes on. His arms were shaking. He felt like he did not have control. The panic kept building in his stomach. Feeling like a black hole sucking him in. Signalling his impending end. He was able to put on a white polo shirt and brown khakis. The others in his dorm lied quiet in their beds. Still sleeping from the night before.

Nott needed to leave. He rushed out of the room, and through the entrance of Slytherin. Keeping a steady pace, he continued up the stairs and opened the door to the courtyard. The fresh air brought peace to his mind for a brief second. He caught his breath, standing in the doorway. He wanted to understand what was wrong. Why he had woken up like that? His arms continued to shake; pulled into the black hole inside him. He took off his shoes and walked into the grass. The courtyard was bare; a single red bird flew circles in the sky. The grass was still covered in the morning dew. His toes became wet and covered in mud.

At a tree in the middle of the courtyard, Nott sat down. His heart finally started to become calm. The panic slowly started to subside. He was scared, next to the tree. Afraid of his body. He had lost control of it for that moment. It felt as though his body had a mind of its own. Fighting back against him. He stayed, sitting against the tree. Thoughts of returning to Slytherin brought back those feelings. He became afraid to even think. Trapped against the tree, empty.

He sat alone in the courtyard for what felt like hours. The red bird's chirps as it glided across the side of the building was his only communication. A conversation held between misunderstanding. He and the bird, in different worlds, interacting. Synchronically speaking in the moment, without any reflection on the past. The red bird did not care who Nott was. For what it was worth, Nott cared little for the bird's history too. He just sat against the tree, listening to its words.

Draco Malfoy entered the courtyard. He wore a suit jacket and a collared shirt. His blonde hair attracted the light; the top of his head glowed. He took out a black cigarette and lit the tip. Noticing Nott next to the tree, he walked over to his classmate. Letting a thin layer of smoke pass out of his lips.

"Hey Nott," Draco greeted, approaching the tree. "What are you doing out here this early?"

Nott stared at Draco for a moment, unsure how to answer. "Nothing really. I'm, well I, I'm not feeling good." Draco felt as distant as the bird, circling over them.

"How so?" Draco asked.

Unable to think of a lie, Nott told Draco what happened. The truth was easier to share; a simpler sort of story. He described how he woke up in a panic and needed to leave Slytherin. The sour taste of the house, and the black hole which returned whenever he thought of going back inside.

"Shit Nott, that sounds awful."

"Yeah. I've been sitting here since, trying to imagine what might be wrong with me." Nott buried his face in his hands. "I feel like there is gravity inside me. It's pulling towards it: my fears, emotions, my stomach. Messing everything up. Making me feel this way. And I don't know what it is. Just the thought terrifies me. Crawls under my fucking skin."

"Nott," Draco spoke. He inhaled. The tip of his cigarette glowed scarlet, slowly burning away the black. He sat down next to the tree, and folded his arms. "Can I ask you a question?"  
>"Sure man, what?"<p>

"What do you think of the others? You know: Pansy, Blaise, Milli."

"They're nice. I've been having fun the last couple of weeks." Nott spoke.

"You don't need to lie to me Nott. I wouldn't ask you the question if I just wanted you to spout out bullshit. I want to know the truth. What do you think of them? They're surely not nice."

Nott stared at Draco, confused. "What do you want me to say?"

"That they're a bunch of assholes." Draco spoke with confidence. "Look, you may want to pretend they're nice, or fun, but that's not the truth of it. They're a bunch of selfish assholes. Nothing wrong with calling them what they are. And they're a bunch of selfish assholes you don't like."

"How do you know I don't like them?" Nott interjected.

"Cause it's bloody obvious mate. Take this morning as truth enough. You can't fucking stand them," Draco said pointing his finger at Nott. His cigarette burnt to the filter. He put it out in the grass. "You've changed over the past while. Maybe you're oblivious to your face, but I see it all the time. The bags which hang under your eyes, and the drawl of your voice. You look like death. Now your body has turned against you."

"How can you be sure the others are the cause? I wasn't thinking about them this morning when I woke."

"What else could it be Nott? Has anything else in your life changed recently enough to cause you to act this way? I don't think acing all of your exams causes panic attacks. Think about it. Your body is trying to give you a message. "

"But, that makes me sound so weak. Like I'm not even strong enough to have friends." Nott said.

"I don't think so. I don't think that at all. I think it's a sign of strength. You're trying to force yourself to their level, and your body's not allowing you to. You're better than they are. You're physically incapable of stooping to their level. You'd lose who you are if you did. That sounds like a lot of strength to me." Draco sat silent for a moment. "I'm sort of jealous actually. They may be my friends, but I can still identify their faults. Yet, I'm not sure I could break away, even with them being shit. I feel like I depend on them. I couldn't make a clean break. You can Nott. You have that freedom. And your body is telling you to make a run for it."

"I don't know."

Draco stood from his spot. "We know very little Nott. Just think about it. I bet you'll get better this summer while you're away from everyone. Don't feel like you need to transform yourself into one of them. It's better to turn yourself into someone you want to be." Draco walked back towards Slytherin. "I'll see you in the fall Nott. Take care."

Nott sat alone in the courtyard once more. His heart was steady for the first time. He tilted his head towards the sky. The bird continued to chirp, dancing figures into the air. For the moment, Nott felt distant from himself. Like he was a puzzle he could not even imagine how to solve. He had been confident making friends was the right thing to do. Things would be better with the others. Now, he was unsure. He did not know what would be better. He had no idea where to even start. The red bird flew higher, and over the wall of the courtyard; as it disappeared behind the building, Nott felt closer to it than he did to himself.

_Hermione_

Hermione sat with Ron in a compartment on the train. The room was tight. Two opposing benches sat on opposite walls. Harry had left them moments earlier. He walked rounds, needing to talk with everyone from Gryffindor. Harry was named the new captain of the Quidditch team in the last couple of days. He took the honour graciously. Everyday was another round of 'thank-yous' to different students in Gryffindor. Even the kids from the lower grades who had no affect were thanked. Harry thought it was the appropriate actions of a Gryffindor Captain: the most honourable of captains.

Ron lounged on one side. His back rested against the wall; his knees were high on his chest. He threw a small rubber ball against the wall. Causing a thump with every throw. Thump. Thump. He wore a tan polo shirt and tight black pants. His red hair was cut short and worn in a mess.

Hermione sat upright in her seat. She held a number of books against her chest. _The Great Gatsby _and _Mrs. Dalloway_ held close to her heart. Her hair was tied back. A green shirt with a high collar rested on her shoulders, and a long brown shirt hugged her hips. She was sad to see the year end. Hermione enjoyed her classes. And she was comfortable with where she was. Every time she awoke, she knew where she had to be. What she needed to be doing. Who she could spend her time with. There was little unknown. No unnecessary angst from her actions with others. She was comfortable.

And yet, on the train ride, she felt her be slowly buried in her stomach. What was the future going to bring? The question pressed against the back of her neck. Harry had been slowly drifting away. His commitment with Quidditch was more important than his commitment with Hermione and Ron. It was natural, Hermione knew. Things changed. Still, she did not enjoy seeing it go. What was her future with him? What was her future with Ron?

Ron stared towards the wall opposite him. Throwing the ball every few seconds: thump, thump. "Do you think I should join the Quidditch team?" Ron asked between a throw. Before Hermione could answer, the thumping continued. Thump. Thump. The ball bounced back each time into his hands.

Hermione pulled the books closer. "Do you want to?" She asked. The only thing she felt comfortable with was her books. They would stay the same. Always play out the same way. She knew how they would develop. And she knew how she wanted her own future to develop. A proper progression in the future. Things will fall into place. Sure, change is inevitable, but change can be good.

"Sure I do. I've always liked Quidditch. Harry's been really enjoying himself on the team. And, you know, since Charlie got on the team, I've wanted to. Dreamed of it really. He was never very good, mind you. But, just good enough, I guess. Always wonder if I could be that good." Ron spoke. Thump, thump, the ball bounced against the wall.

"Well, I'm sure you could do it, if you put your mind to it," Hermione spoke. She placed her books to her side. On the empty bench to her side.

"I know I could. I'm not really interested in that though. It's not an issue of could, it's an issue of should. Should I join the team? Would it be worth it?" Ron kept his stare dedicated to the wall.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking." Hermione observed. She stared at Ron. Their gazes passing by each other, but not meeting. Like the light of a lighthouse passing over a boat who does not see the sign. Moving forward on its course anyway.

Ron threw the ball again: thump, and then another: thump. "You know. Quidditch takes up a lot of time. It's hard to do it with other things. And well." He chewed on the words in his mouth. Unable to express those feelings in the bottom of his stomach. "I don't want to lose that time. I don't want to lose my time with you."

"Ron," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. "You'll never accomplish anything with that sort of mind set. If you want to achieve something, you can't think of it as losing time. There's a necessary amount of work you need to do. Doing Quidditch is spending that time too. You wouldn't be losing anything by doing it. It'd just be doing Quidditch."

Thump. Thump. "I don't mean it like that though." Thump. Thump. Ron threw the ball against the wall.

"What do you mean then?"

"I don't want to lose my time with you, kind of. We've both noticed how much Harry's been consumed by it. We rarely hang out; never how we used to anyway. I'm not sure I want that."

"I think you're looking at it wrong Ron. We are now in the upper years. That means we won't have as much free time as we used to. I'm going to be in all honours courses. I'll have to dedicate a lot more of my time to studying. It might be good for you to dedicate yourself to something during that time."

"Do you really think that would be good?" Ron asked. Thump. Thump. He threw the ball with more force. "Why do we need to be working so hard? Why do we need to be doing different things? I want," He stopped at the last word. Unable to finish his sentence.

"Don't you want to do Quidditch?"

"Yeah, of course I do."

"Then it would be good. We need to work that hard if we want to succeed. There's no question then." Hermione said.

"But Hermione," said Ron.

"Yeah?"

"Forget about it."

The two of them sat together in silence. A missed connection. Hermione passed her hand over _The __Great __Gatsby_. Thump, thump, sounded their hearts.

...

Author's Notes: If you've been paying attention, you'd recognize that all of these moments (except Hermione's) have already been mentioned in the story. I thought it would be nice to flesh some of them out. Give a little glimpse into the lives of the characters before the study group. A bit of backstory to the stories already told, and foreshadow the ones coming.

Up next is Hermione's story. Be excited!

This chapter marks the midpoint in the story. According to my current plan, there should be around 19 chapters in total. Which means nine before and nine after this chapter. Originally my intention was for this story to be around 45,000 words. We've hit that milestone with this chapter. There's only up from here. I look forward to the challenge.

I wanted to thank everyone who's left a review. The reviews have not only helped to give me motivation to write, they have also helped shaped the story. Your understanding of the characters has helped me grasp my understanding of the characters. Writing the story would be much more difficult without you.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	11. The Halloween Ball

Part 3: Hermione's Story

Chapter 11: The Halloween Ball

Arithmancy introduces a new logical law: the law of magic. Formally, it can be expressed as A, therefore B. In practical terms, it means that anything can follow anything. That with magic, everything is possible from anything. The rule is mostly syntactic; it covers a hole in traditional logical systems which magic creates. Still, I think about it often. Look for the rule in my life. I sometimes wonder if I can predict anything, if everything is possible. It sometimes feels like an insurmountable mountain has been erupted before me. The future is opaque, blocked by total possibility. And I feel like such an insignificant actor. Like I cannot affect the future. Everything is possible, irrelevant of myself. Anything can happen, no matter what I do.

In the library before the Halloween Ball, I thought of the rule of magic. How I could not know what would happen next. Things would play out, and all I could do is watch. But stubbornly, I wanted to fight against it. Show that I am a performer in the play of my life. I could predict what would happen next. I could know. I thought.

I was alone in the library. The lights were dimmed, and the space between the stacks was bare. Pince had left early to help the preparation of the Ball. I told her I was waiting for the rest of the Study Group, and she allowed me to stay in the room. The Halloween Ball was a mandatory event for all students. Lower years were herded straight from their house to the main hall where it was being held. Those in the upper years were given more discretion in regards to how they would attend. This made it easier for the students with dates from different houses to organize themselves.

This year was my first Ball as an upper year. The hallways were completely bare as I walked over to the library. I did not see another student on my way, nor did I hear a single footstep. There is something grating about a total silence. I was so used to bustling and people moving, that a complete lull sounded louder than noise. The library felt like a lonely place. I sat at our usual table. Held my hands together. Waiting for the rest of the study group to arrive.

I had yet to wrap my mind around the idea of attending a Halloween Ball without Ron and Harry. The whole concept of it felt wrong. Like I was making a mistake somewhere. Something was not right. Still, Ron and Harry had their own plans. Ron was attending with Lavender; Harry spoke something about the Quidditch team. Everything about Harry at the moment was involved in the Quidditch team. I kept imagining, in the library, that the Ball was going to play out how it used to. Harry, Ron and I attending together. But it was not. I knew it was not.

The dim light of the room made my cream coloured dress look yellow: an unflattering profile. The light of the Ball would do the same. It happened every year; it was a fate I could not avoid. The ugly dress was the only one I owned. The cut was high: choking the bottom of my neck. My feet were stuffed in a uncomfortable pair of high heels. The straps cutting into the space between my toes. I never looked good at these events. It usually was not an issue. Ron always wore a goofy attire. He had the fashion sense of a dumb rock. Beside each other, we were a cute couple of ugly kids. That was not the case this year. This year I was with my study group, who were a whole different batch.

I wore my green army jacket over my dress. It helped hide the shame I felt in regards to my look. It also helped as a barrier. Each time I looked at the dress, I remembered the Balls I attended with Ron. The last one, near the end of fifth year, we entered the Ball hand in hand. He wore his awful brown tweed jacket, and I wore this ugly cream coloured dress. I wanted that moment back. I wanted Ron back. As much as I hated to admit it, I held Ron in a special place in my heart. A place which ached tonight. Pulled and beat by the situation. A poison slowly spreading through my blood as the night progressed.

Nott was the first person to arrive. He sat in his usual chair, across from me. Nott wore his leather jacket, tight blue jeans with holes in the knees, and his Xiu Xiu t-shirt. His black hair held in a mess. The attire was purposefully disordered. A personal protest against the prim and proper costumes of the Balls. I was under the impression he did not enjoy these sorts of events. Admittedly, I never noticed him before at one of the Balls, Halloween or otherwise. He liked to come alone, and disappear in the posterior.

"Hey Nott," I greeted.

"Hey Hermione; I like the jacket." He commented.

"Thanks. You looking forward to the Ball?"

"As much as I ever will."

Terry was the next to join us. He looked like a giant in the cut of his suit. A towering position over top of the rest of us. The past few days, Terry and I had been talking often. He told me about his situation with Ernie, and his different fears and anxieties involved. Beyond Ernie, he confessed to past sins, and his constant lie. The lie about himself he lived in every morning, day and night.

The night before he had been especially on edge. Terry, the tall confident boy who stood above his peers, looked small and weak. Afraid of every possibility before him. I kept telling him the good possibilities were just as likely, but he kept his mind focused on the negative. We sat in the dining hall for hours. He held his head in his hands. We tried to walk through the possible events which could play out at the Halloween Ball. Each a guess at the seemingly infinite possibilities the future held. Terry kept repeating each and everything which could go wrong. I felt like my advice was not helping at all. I knew the Ball was an important event for him. His first real date.

Terry brought up Ron and I a couple of times. I always tried to deflect the subject. Terry had a talent though, a real ability to bring the truth out of me. His delicate words helped me feel comfort. Even when I tried not to talk about the subject, Terry helped me feel comfortable with the idea of it. Still, I hated it. I hated my feelings for Ron.

I felt like a juvenile kid. Which, sure, I was. But it's not like I was unaware of that. I knew full well that I was so young. My situation was only a brief moment in a life filled with moments. I would get over it. Move on. At that moment though, it didn't feel that easy. The thoughts would not go away.

"Hey you two," Terry said, as he joined Nott and I at the table.

Nott gave a slight nod. I shot him a smile. "You look great Terry." I complimented. "What are you doing at this table for misfits?"

Terry waved away my comment. A smirk growing on his lips. "You're such a teaser Hermione. I am no more dashing than the two of you. Save your words for Hannah. She'll put us all to shame."

"I hope she'll come soon. We should probably start heading over to hall soon. The Ball should be opening soon." I commented. As a mandatory event, it was necessary to be in attendance at the beginning. We needed to be accounted for, or else be reprimanded.

"She'll be here," Nott added.

Hannah arrived a couple minutes later. She was the final member to join us at the table. Her short red hair looked ablaze in the warm light. She wore a tight black dress etching out her shape. The skirt cut off on her calves; the top lined just above her cleavage. She had these black loafers on her feet without stockings, flat on the ground. Over top of the dress, she wore a spiked jean jacket, which dangled high above her hips. The look was filled with attitude and style. She no longer looked like the refined girl from the beginning of the year, but instead resembled a unique force. A beauty which overwhelmed the presence of others. I felt jealous actually. Jealous that she had such great control over her look. Throughout her personal transformation, she never lost the reigns. I felt like I never even grasped them, not in the way Hannah could.

She sat at the final chair around the table. The study group was complete, and ready to move as a single unit. No longer four different kids from four different houses, we were a single entity. A collection with its four parts.

"Hey guys," Hannah greeted. "Ernie's waiting outside. We should head out. Don't want to miss the role call."

"Yeah," I agreed. I stood from my chair. The rest of them followed. Outside the library, Ernie leaned against the wall. He wore a suit jacket and tight black pants. Ernie's curly brown hair rounded his face, and gave an emphasis on his best feature: his smile.

We moved as a group. In the front, Ernie and Terry talked between each other. They kept their voices low. Trying to keep us outside of their conversation: ignorant of their words. Separating themselves from us, forming a special bond between each other. A particular relation private to them alone. Hannah and I walked behind them. We talked about our feelings on mutual classes. My distaste with Classics; Hannah's interest in Potions and Chemistry. Pointless conversations meant to fill the time. Our attentions were actually locked on the two boys before us. Stealing whatever glances we could. Both of our interests were involved. Hoping for the best between them. Nott shadowed behind us. A silent presence at the end.

The Halloween Ball took place in the main hall of the school. A large room used for all of Hogwart's major Balls. One of the few areas which could fit the entire student body comfortably. The room had been decorated with jack-o-lanterns floating in the air. A warm light emanating from the pumpkin. Long tables lined the walls, filled with an assortment of snacks and punches, appropriately matched to the theme of the night.

Each of the houses laid claim to a corner in the room. There was nothing official about the arrangement, but every year the students from the houses knew which corner to associate in. Lower years were tightly knitted into little groups within the corners. Afraid of venturing past the protection of friends and their houses. Relying on the brief comfort the proximity allowed. The upper years were more scattered. A large clump of the upper years, from each of the houses, surrounded the exit. Later in the evening, upper years were allowed to leave. Many anticipated the privilege.

The five of us walked through the doorway as a clump. We arrived moments before the first speech, opening the evening. Terry lead us beside the door. He stood erect; his height made his noticeable from across the hall. Ernie stood next to him. Their hands almost brushing each others'. Nott moved against the wall. He folded his arms and leaned his back against the surface. Hannah stood next to him; her shoulder holding herself against the wall. I stood in between the four of them. I was unsure how to act really. In a sense, I wanted to join Hannah and Nott. But they were close. Arms nearly touching. I felt as though I would intrude. So I stood still. In between the two couples: Nott and Hannah, Terry and Ernie.

Dumbledore entered in the front of the room. With a wave of his hand, he quieted the students. First, he greeted the four houses. A different cheer erupted from the different corners as they were mentioned individually. I stopped paying attention to Dumbledore's words once he mentioned Gryffindor. The yells from the group in the corner across the hall from me felt familiar. I had always been there. Why was I not there?

I stared at the group. The crimson and gold colours worn unapologetically. I just looked sick, in my army jacket and yellow dress. I spotted a number of the girls from my dorm room: Parvati stood with her date at the front of the crowd, on the brink of the dance floor. Standing in anticipation of the first invite to dance. Fay was on her own. She wore a deep red dress. Her hair worn up; sculpted into a full piece of art. Begging for those around to interpret, and appreciate her. Next to Fay, Lavender stood with Ron's arms wrapped around her.

My eyes kept wandering to those two. I bit my lip. Each glimpse felt like a curdling in my stomach. My arms started to sweat in my jacket. I scratched at my sides: overheating and overly emotional. I was losing sense of myself. How foolish! How could I lose control of myself? The idea sounded absurd. Surely, I couldn't lose me. I was me. Right? But, maybe that wasn't true. I felt like an itch built behind my neck. Digging deeper into my back with each glimpse I shot at Ron. And I couldn't stop! Like a child with cavities who continues to stuff her face with candy. What an idiot! Right?

"Hey Hermione," Nott whispered behind me. He spoke with a low voice, just audible under the sound of Dumbledore's speech. His leather jacket draped over his left arm. "Are you planning on wearing that jacket all night? It's hot in here. You look a bit uncomfortable."

"I'll probably take it off in a minute," I said back to him.

He offered his hand to me. "Let me hold onto it."

"You don't need to."

"I'm already holding onto my own. Wouldn't be any more hassle."

"I guess." Honestly, I did want it off. My bare arms were able to breath. The intensity of the moment before was lessened. I passed him the green army jacket, and he covered it over his own.

I was able to focus on the rest of the speeches. McGonagall said a few words after Dumbledore, and then Pince gave an awkward closing speech about school unity. I think she wanted to tell us about how important it was to transcend our houses. We were all members of a single student body. That is, what I think she was trying to express. Her words were jumbled; stopping mid-sentence to start on another point. She tried to use the students in the library as an example, but she gave nothing concrete. It all ended up a bit of a mess. I felt a little embarrassed for her, and looked forward to its end.

After the speeches finished, the dancing began. A small hand full of couples entered the dance floor. Ernie and Terry stood together at the edge. Their hands almost touching. The two of them were joking at each other. Often pushing affectionately at the other. I can only guess to their words, but I would bet they were debating whether to join the dance floor. Perhaps sharing jokes about what the reaction to them dancing would be. I wanted to ask them about it, but they seemed nicely confined in their little bubble. The night before, when Terry spoke to me in the dining hall, he'd been so afraid of even getting along with Ernie. I did not want to risk breaking what they had. I knew how fragile it felt to Terry. And how important it was to him as well.

I felt like an outlier of two separate groups: two couples. Against the wall, Hannah and Nott moved closer. I noticed their awkward glances at each other. I was happy for them too. They were cute. Since the first day the study group formed, I had suspected they would be a good fit for the other. Only, we did not feel like a study group now. We may have entered the Halloween Ball as a single group, but we quickly broke apart. I felt alone, and a part of nothing, trapped in the space between the couples. Unable to join either side, and crushed between.

Ron stayed in my mind too. I felt better with my jacket off, but Ron would drift back into my mind with everything I thought of. The dance floor was filled with couples. A fantasy of Ron and I dancing played back in my head. Ernie and Terry's happiness brought thoughts of what could have happened between Ron and I. Connecting on a personal level. Every time I looked at Hannah, I wondered if things were different if I looked like her. Beautiful, not standing awkwardly in my ugly yellow dress. Would Ron have been attracted to her? A beautiful me? Anamored in such a way he would not need to be with Lavender. Thoughts of Lavender would never have crept into his mind. And Nott, well, maybe not with Nott.

It was an unhealthy place to be: between Terry and Ernie, Hannah and Nott, dreaming of Ron. I was not helping anyone else. Nor was I helping myself. All I was accomplishing was stubbornly standing my ground. Too afraid to venture elsewhere.

I debated whether to leave. At least, I needed to move. Put myself in a different head space. I passed around the outer wall, heading to the Gryffindor crowd. I would at least try talking with them, before leaving the Ball altogether. Say hello to Harry, if I could find him. Purposefully, I avoided the dance floor. Keeping my arms tied tightly around my waist. Trying not draw attention to myself. Hoping to move silently.

As I approached the group from Gryffindor, I saw Ron standing alone with two drinks in his hands. Lavender must have been somewhere else. Ron, spotting me moving in his direction, walked towards me.

"Hey Ron." I said, watching him approach.

"Hey Hermione. You want a drink?" Ron said, extending his arm. "It's spiked," he added with a smirk. Ron had a knotted mane of red hair extending down to his shoulders. The strands looked wild and feral on his head; a mass of conflicted forces clumped together. He wore a tweed jacket, with elbow pads sown into the arms. His pants were pleated with a light brown colour. I smiled, finding satisfaction in Ron's goofy clothes. I was glad to see somethings did not change.

I thought over Ron's offer. I knew he gave it in jest. Knowing I refused to drink at public events, especially events involving faculty. It just so happened that this time in particular, I felt like I could use a drink. I was probably going to leave soon anyway. "Sure," I responded, taking the cup from his hand. Before he could say anything, I took a large sip. The alcohol apparent in the taste.

"Never thought I would see that," Ron spoke with a little shock in his voice.

I smiled at his comment. "What can I say Ron? I'm full of surprises."

"How's your night been so far?" he asked.

"Alright. Haven't been up to much." I responded. "Where's Harry?"

"With the other Quidditch guys, I think." Ron said, briefly scanning the crowd in case Harry was close by. "I saw them at the beginning of the night. They've been mostly keeping to themselves since then. Not sure where they are at the moment."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Lavender wanted me to spend the night with her. It'd be too hard to focus on her and the Quidditch boys. Plus," he paused momentarily. "Nevermind." He said, brushing aside the topic.

"Makes sense." I took another sip of the drink. "You don't seem to be focusing on her at the moment."

Ron let out an awkward laugh. "Yeah, you're right. She had something else to attend to. Fay needed her advice, or something. Not completely sure myself. Fay just sort of showed up, said something in Lavender's ear, and they both walked off swiftly."

"Sounds like you're not allowed to have more than one focus, but she is." I commented.

"Well, I'm talking to you at the moment, aren't I? Plus, I'm sure she'll be back soon enough. You're always so critical of her."

"Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come off that way."

Lavender and I never got along. She only cared about herself. Every conversation needed to be about her, or about something she was interested in. If the topic ever strayed onto something she did not care about, she would either leave or try to steer it back to something she liked. She was never particularly disrespectful by it. Never demanded our attention. Her actions were always subtle. Manipulating the situation in her favour. Leading people towards her intention. It bugged me. We'd lived in the same dorm room since our first year. I saw it everyday. At first, I was able to look past it. Now, it crawled under my skin. How every conversation about class needed to be shifted to her experience in class, or how she needed to stop every conversation about difficult subjects. The quality was grating. I could not understand what Ron saw in her.

A silence built between the two of us. I wanted to do something. Save Ron from her influence. Show him how much he meant to me. The way I felt about the situation. But the words only came out in silence. The music filling the space between us. I stared into my glass. Ron kept this dumb smile on his face. How could he smile now? Was he completely oblivious? Did he not notice me? Care about the way I felt?

And I kept hating myself in his gaze. Because I was too afraid. I could not say those words and feelings which built inside me. Instead, I hoped he would say something. Tell me what I wanted to hear. And I was annoyed by his silence. How stupid! How could I expect him to tell me what I wanted to hear, if I never told him? Why would I expect him to understand me, when I've made sure he did not? I felt like I was swept into the current of a river, and unwilling to swim against it. Resolved into following the path set before me, even if the path only lead to pain and disappointment.

"There she is!" Ron announced as Lavender rejoined us. Lavender wore a crimson dress cut deep into her cleavage. Her long blonde hair was tied in a ribbon, matching the colour of her dress. She wore high heels, a good inch longer than mine.

"Hey Lavender." I said.

"Hey Hermione." She replied to me, walking up to Ron and put her hand on his shoulder. "I thought you were going to grab me a drink Ron."

"Oops, I must have forgot to grab one. Sorry babe." Ron said, looking down at his own drink.

"That's okay. I want to dance anyways." She grabbed his hand and lead him towards the dance floor. "See you later Hermione," she said over her shoulder.

"You two have fun," I replied. In a single gulp, I finished off my drink. Talking with Ron made nothing better. My mind was still muddled. Mad with thoughts which ate away at my side. I let go of my cup and let it fall to the ground. The drink did nothing. I needed something stronger. Something to help me become numb. Stop these thoughts.

I headed back to where the study group was before. Terry and Ernie stood in the same place. Their hands brushing each other. I walked back to the wall to find Nott sitting alone. My green army jacket resting on his lap. He looked calm, and distant from everyone else. In his own world, unconcerned with the others. Hannah had disappeared. I briefly looked around the surrounding area and did not see her. I walked up to Nott, and leaned on the wall next to him. He stayed self contained. Did not look up, or acknowledge me.

"Hey Nott," I said.

"Hello Hermione. Where did you run off to?" he asked. His voiced sounded neutral. Like he was trying hard to be detached. Forcing himself to sound uninterested. I looked down at him: his black hair a mess.

"Just went to see how the Gryffindor kids were doing. Say 'hi' to Ron, and the rest."

"Cool." Nott said.

"Where's Hannah?"

"Dancing."

I looked at the dance floor, but could not see Hannah. Her height and short hair should have been easy to spot, but there were too many people to discern her. I refocused on Nott. "With who?"

"Stephen."

"Why is she dancing with Stephen?" I asked, perplexed. I barely knew the boy from Ravenclaw.

Nott looked up at me. "He asked her, why else would she be?" His voice sounded confused by my question.

"Right, that makes sense." I said.

Why would Hannah agree to dance with someone else, right next to Nott? The idea sounded absurd. The two of them were falling into each others' arms moments before. They were finally about to come together; close the gap between each other. Why would Hannah push it open? Did she not like Nott? Were they not as close as I imagined? I'd never seen her and Stephen close together before. Maybe the two of them knew each other. But what about Nott then? What was his place in all this? None of the connections made sense to me. The moments had no connection, no necessity. Hannah and Nott should be together. Shouldn't they be? I felt like I was trapped in the Magical rule for the moment. Unable to see into the future. Miniscule in the great possibility laying before me.

"You want to head out for some air?" Nott asked.

"Sure," I replied.

Nott stood up and handed me my army jacket. I put my arms through the sleeves. Zipped up the middle. Nott walked towards the door. I followed a foot behind him. Shadowing his movement. He cut a path through the crowd. My gaze drifted downwards, following his feet as he moved.

Near the doorway, different upper year students huddled together. Upper year students were the only ones allowed to leave the Ball before the official end. The tendency was for the upper years to slip outside across the hall onto the grounds to smoke. Down the hill towards the lake, out of view from the entrance, joints were passed around circles, and students spiked their drinks with smuggled bottles of alcohol. The faculty must have known this was going on. I remember hearing about it in my first year at Hogwarts. Still, the upper years were mostly left alone. Allowed to do as they wished, so long as it was out of view.

We exited the building, and headed towards the grass. I asked Nott to stop momentarily. My heels were too high to walk on grass. I sat down on the stone path and unlatched the straps. Slipping the shoes off my feet felt liberating. The tips were digging into my toes throughout the night. I would have never been able to dance wearing them. Although, I doubt I would have danced in the first place. The wet grass felt soothing on my bare feet. I held onto the shoes in my right hand.

As I took off my shoes, Nott grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He took out a black cigarette from the pack, and put it in his mouth. He stared out towards the grounds. The grass was littered with upper year students moving around furtively, hoping to hide their transgressions. "It's busy out here tonight," Nott mumbled, the cigarette resting between his lips.

"Guess this is where the action is." I added.

"You okay?" Nott asked.

"Yeah. Just needed to take off those awful shoes. I'm fine."

We moved on the grass, headed towards the lake. Nott took out a lighter, and brought it to his face. He stumbled to get a flame. I cupped my hands around his mouth. He nodded in acknowledgement, and lit the tip between my hands. "Thanks," he mumbled. The smoke exited his mouth in a small dark cloud. Hiding the details of his face from me.

The side of the lake was lined with floating lamps. The two of us sat down near the shoreline. Sounds of the students running about filled the air. The words of their secrets whispered into each others ears sounded like a faint wind. Carried off, over across the water.

"Enjoying the night?" I asked Nott.

He stared straight into the lake. His hand resting on his chin. The light from his cigarette illuminating his face. "Enough, I guess. I never really liked these sorts of events. I used to leave at the first possible moment. When the prefects organized groups of lower years to head back to the houses, I was often the first in line. Ready to leave. Couldn't come quick enough. Anytime which is better than that, is pretty okay by my standards."

"So our presence is only marginally better than the worst possible experience?"

"No," Nott corrected me. He rubbed the side of his face with his hand. "I didn't mean it like that. Tonight's much better than that. It's just, that's all I can really compare it to. Except for last year, I guess, when I tried to feel the magical aura of the room. Never practised before on such a large group. I wasn't very good at it back then, but that was a whole different kind of experience from tonight."

"You can read the magical aura of a room?" I asked.

He turned his head to look at me. "Yeah," he said. "You could say it's my hobby. I spend most of my time doing it, anyway. There's no other kind of magic which, I don't know, speaks to me like that."

"I'm impressed Nott. Reading magical auras is pretty difficult stuff." I never imagined Nott dedicating his time to that sort of a skill. Feeling auras was a skill taught at the University level. It required a lot of practice and ability. I read a book about them during my second year. I tried it a couple of times, but could not get the hang of it. Feeling one properly, was supposed to be like an electrical surge passing through the body, each tingle playing a musical note. A real transcendental experience. "Wait," I said, as a thought entered my mind, "has that been what you've been doing at the library. You know, when you stare at the ceiling?"

"Most of the time. The library's a nice location. I can focus on the subtleties of different people, and they leave me alone while I do it." He said. He put out his cigarette on the grass. Reaching into the side pocket of his leather jacket, he took out a small silver flask.

I felt like I was sitting next to a stranger. We'd been sitting across from one another in the library, almost everyday for two months. And yet, I had no idea what he was doing. My whole picture of Nott was wrong. If I could have failed to notice something, on such a fundamental level, could I be certain of anything I thought I knew? Did I really know anything about Theodore Nott?

I spoke: "you know, all this time I just thought you were just day dreaming." I let out a chuckle. "I feel like an idiot." I rested my head in my hands.

Nott unscrewed the top of the flask, and took large sip from it. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I also daydream," he paused "a lot." I playfully punched him on shoulder. He motioned the flask towards me. "You want any? It's whiskey. I know you don't really drink, so don't worry about it. Just thought, you know, I'd be polite."

I reached forward and grabbed it from his hand. My fingers stroked the length of his palm as the flask switched hands. "Thanks. I've had the kind of night which could use a drink." The flask was warm from Nott's pocket. I took a swig. My face convulsed from the rough taste. The first time I'd had straight alcohol.

"We've all had those sorts of nights." He said staring forward towards the lake.

I took another swig from his flask, and handed it back to him. The water was calm before us. A perfect mirror reflecting back at us. But, the reflection was not really perfect. The motion of the waves broke the stillness of the images. Every second, the picture would change. I would be a little different, and Nott would be a little different too. And as time moved forward, we were unable to return to those past images. The places in time we'd been before. Trapped, in the new picture which resembled us now, in moment, on the surface of the water.

Nott took out another cigarette, and lit the tip. "I like it out here. A real perk of being in the upper years. I feel free. No longer trapped by that fucking crowd in there. Would have been much happier, if we were allowed to do this the past few years." He inhaled: the tip burning a bright crimson.

"The water's really beautiful." I stood up from where I sat. My shoes placed on the ground, where I was sitting before. Leaning down, I grabbed the flask resting against Nott's inner thigh. I untwisted the top, and headed towards the shoreline. The dark water of the lake looked inviting. I remembered times playing in water as a child. A little girl brimming with innocence. I touched my bare foot to the surface. The water was cold. Bitter autumn nights chilled its summer warmth. I walked into the water up to my knees. Swigs of the flask warmed my core. I held the bottom of my dress in my left hand, ensuring it did not get wet.

"Hey Nott," I called. "I have a question."

"Yeah?" he called back, still sitting where he was before. The burning ash of his cigarette marking the front of his face.

"If you've been feeling the aura of the library the last few weeks, then you must have felt the magical aura surrounding me right?"

"I guess so."

"What does it feel like?"

"That's hard to say." He inhaled, pausing for a moment. "I'm still not very good at it, so I can't be certain my readings would be correct. And it's hard to put to words."

"Stop avoiding the issue Nott. Give it your best shot." I took an exaggerated swig of whiskey. Waiting for his reply, I kicked at the water. Causing splashes to surround me. "Firm," he finally called out, loud to be heard over the splashing water. "Most students have a thin, flimsy magical aura around them. Yours is firm. Almost solid. Like a marble barrier around you. Hard to really break through. Hard to see if there's anything behind it."

I stopped in the water. Letting the surface become still again. My reflection stared back at me. A resigned look in her face. Following the motion of the water. "Thanks Nott," I said back to him. I stood there, knee deep, for a few minutes. Feeling as the time passed by. Noticing that, for the first time in the night, I had successfully removed Ron from my mind. Exercised those thoughts from my mind. I felt calm there, with the water, content with my position.

My shoes were placed tightly against Nott's side when I returned. He moved them to allow me to sit back down. I retook the spot. The edges of my dress soaked by the splashes. I gave Nott his flask back. "Thanks Nott, I needed this," I said to him. Glad I came out of the ball. The air had done me good. I felt comfortable on the grass. The tips of the grass were wet with the evening fog. And yet, I felt like Nott and I were on a picnic. Sharing the sun on a warm sunny day. Far away from the Ball, and Ron, and the study group. There was only the space between Nott and I.

Until I was brought back into reality. "Hermione!" Harry called. He stood down the shoreline with a group of about five. From what I could see, each was a member of the Quidditch team. Seamus was the only one I could identify from where we stood. His curly red hair reflected the floating lights.

Harry greeting me with open arms as he approached. I gave Nott an apologetic stare, and stood up. Harry gave me a friendly hug. His breath smelt harsh like alcohol. Harry's hair was cut short. The scar on his forehead visible. He wore a black suit; his broad shoulders noticeable under the fit. His body had filled in the past few years. He was no longer the small skinny boy I knew from first year; he was big and covered in muscle. An effect of the Quidditch practice which took up most of his life. On his eyes, he wore contacts; no longer using his glasses. Allowing the brown of his eyes to be noticeable.

"I haven't seen you all night." Harry said to me.

"I don't think we've seen each other all day. You've been hiding from me." I spoke jokingly.

Harry brought his hand over his heart. "Guilty." He looked over my shoulder, and spotted Nott. Nott stayed where he was sitting before, looking out into the lake. Uninterested in the others. "How's your night been with the dorks?" He spoke in a condescending tone.

I was taken aback by his words. Harry was rarely judgemental. He took the time to befriend everyone in Gryffindor, even those in the posterior. It was out of character for him to speak down about someone. I chewed on my words for a second, trying to think of a proper response. Rendered a little speechless by his comment. "My night's been fine." I was finally able to say.

"Cool. We've been walking around looking for someone to fight. I've never been in a good fight. Thought tonight is a good night to pop that cherry." An intensity grew in Harry's voice. Like a building excitement at the prospect; an almost beastial reaction.

"What are you talking about Harry?"

Harry gave no notice to my words. Instead he walked past me towards Nott. In a loud voice, he yelled "Slytherin huh? Perfect. Just what I was looking for." He rolled up his sleeves. Nott, looking confused, tried to stand up. As he got to his feet, Harry broke into a sprint towards him. With both arms Harry pushed Nott down towards the ground; throwing Nott onto his side in the grass.

Nott on the ground, Harry started to yell. "What are you gonna do now? Huh? What are you going to do punk?"

"Harry, what the fuck?" I yelled behind him.

Nott laid on the ground still for a moment. Harry's breath sped up. He was a carnivore, anticipating his prey. Nott stumbled to stand, shuffling away from where Harry stood. Widening the gap between them.

"What? Are you running away? What are you? A pussy?"

Nott turned towards Harry. A streak of mud was stretched across his face. The bottom of his lip quivered. He looked scared, unprepared for the situation. "I guess so," he spat back at Harry, his voice cracking. Nott turned his back to Harry, and began to walk away. Brushing the dirt from the ground off of his jacket, he said "I'll see you later Hermione. Have fun with your friends."

Harry started to approach Nott from behind. I was not going to let this continue. With his back to me, I threw all of my weight at Harry. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I tackled him to the ground. Hitting his back with as much force as I could muster. On the ground, he quickly turned over, and pushed me off of him. His black suit covered in mud from the wet ground. The other boys from the Quidditch team laughed at Harry's expense.

I sat on the ground, staring straight into Harry's eyes. They looked distant. Gone. No longer Harry's. "What is wrong with you Harry?"

Harry stood up silently. Rejoined his friends without paying me any attention. My question stayed unanswered. "Lets get out of here." He said to the others.

I stayed on the ground for a moment. My dress covered in mud too. I did not care. The dress was ugly anyway. Mud was not going to make it worse. I felt confused. Everything was completely absurd. Harry had never acted like that before. He seemed different, completely different. I felt hurt. And distant too, from both Harry and Ron. Wherever they were, even when they were right next to me, it felt far away. In a land totally separate from myself. Where I could understand their actions; their reasons; their thoughts.

My Halloween Ball ended there, lying in the mud. I felt angry, sad, frustrated. Tired of things playing out this way. Far away from how I had imagined it. Like my life was dictated by that fucking rule of magic. Where nothing is connected: nothing necessarily leads to anything else: anything happens from something, and there is no way to tell what will happen next. I felt separate, on my own island. Far away from everyone else. Far away from the chain of causation. An observer of everything which had just transpired. Limited to watching, and hurting. I swore against Harry. Whoever I had just faced was not my friend.

I stood up from my spot, and walked over to where Nott and I had been sitting. Now, only my shoes and Nott's flask rested on the grass. A marker of the past. A picture lost in the flow of time: the motion of the water. Always disrupted, always lost, always ruined.

...

...

Author's Notes: The longest chapter yet! I hope you liked it. I know I had a lot of fun writing it.

I've been looking forward to writing Hermione's chapter for a while now. The first idea for the Study Group sprouted from a desire I had of writing a story in Hermione's perspective. All of my Harry Potter fics before this one starred Hermione, but you never really got into her head. She was only experienced in the approximations of the other characters. Now, for the first time, I get to write her directly.

Thank you to everyone who left a review on the last chapter. It was a little different, and I'm glad you liked it.

The Study Group is now my first story to every reach 50,000 words. How exciting!

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	12. Wake Up, Silly Girl

Chapter 12: Wake Up, Silly Girl

I woke up to a knock on the door of the sixth year girls dorm in Gryffindor. The room was dimly lit. Gold window shades dyed the sunlight. I was wrapped in my crimson blankets above my legs. The bare of my feet sticking out into the cold. Remnants of my outfit lied at the end of the bed. My dress thrown across roughly. A reminder of the night before. I had entered the room in a rage. I tossed away my shoes, and covered my face with a pillow. I slipped off my dress, and kicked it against the foot board. Now, it stayed there, scrunched; an ugly yellow sigil of my failure. Sleep was a happy escape. Luckily, it came quick enough; soon after I had rested my face against the pillow. Before the others arrived back. I was alone there, in the dorm, etherized in my bed: a happy escape. Separate from everything, from that chain of connection, the chain of causation.

Another knock stuck the door. The room was laid out in a circle. A cornerless place, with each bed separated by a window. I had the luck to sleep in the bed closest to the door. Whenever someone stumbled loudly on the winding stairs on the other side of the door, I could hear it. Or if there were two students sucking face late at night, I could hear it. If there were moans from a hand slipping under clothes, I could hear it. And I was always the one to wake up at the sound of a knock. The other girls never seemed to notice. I was their personal messenger.

I stumbled out of my bed: put on a bra, some blue jeans, and a white button up t-shirt. It looked plain, but I only needed to cover myself up. Before I opened the door, I quickly tidied the covers on my bed. No reason to look like a slob. I placed my ugly dress into a drawer, and finally answered the door.

To my surprise, Ron stood on the other side with a sheepish grin on his face. Ron was an anomaly in the morning; he was known for waking near noon most days. Especially mornings after nights involving parties, Ron was often the last of the guys to recover. He wore loose plaid pyjama bottoms, which barely seemed to hold onto his waist; dragging downwards, carving the lines of his hips. His red hair was clumped together like a wild mane.

"Morning Hermione," he spoke hoarsely. He sounded like a refugee in a desert, who had not found water for days.

"Fancy seeing you up this early Ron. Have a pleasant night?" I commented, letting off a little laugh at his expense.

He smiled back at me, but recoiled in pain soon afterwards, holding his forehead with his hand. "Not at all. A bunch of the guys were loud getting in, long after curfew. I just couldn't fall back to sleep afterwards. Finally gave up." He looked past me, over my shoulder. Taking a look at Lavender's bed. Her whole body was covered by her crimson blankets. Only the blonde strands of her hair were visible. Dangling over the edges of her pillow. "You want to grab some breakfast?" Ron asked.

"Sure," I replied.

"Cool," Ron said. "Let me put on some more clothes, and meet me downstairs in a minute."

He turned around, pulling up the edges of the pyjama bottoms. The plaid design had fallen, exposing much of his ass. I watched as he struggled with it, walking down the spiral stair case. I turned back into the room. My regular shoes were arranged at the side of my bed. A pair of brown runners which were far more comfortable than the shoes I wore the night before.

The room was trapped in a silent lull. All of the other beds were occupied with sleeping heads. I was the first one to arrive back the night before. The room felt empty and alone. An apropos feeling of my heart. My memories of the night were caught up in a torrent of emotions: the initial fun of moving as the study group, the satisfaction of Terry and Ernie, the jealously of Hannah's looks, my anger at Ron and Lavender, the calm with Nott, the absurdity of Harry. Each position painted the night in different, sometimes contradictory, ways. I had no idea which was the proper way to feel. Which emotion was right?

I put Nott's flask into my bag. He'd left it on the ground. If I saw him today, I'd hand it back to him. Although, I don't think I wanted to see him then. I wanted to explain things. Say why it ended up playing out the way it did. But, truthfully, I felt like I needed things to be explained to. The whole experience was like a dream. A series of unconnected events which did not fit together. Only related through time, not sense. I couldn't explain anything to Nott. I couldn't explain anything to myself.

At the bottom up the spiral stairs, Ron lounged in one of the love seats. He'd changed into light green khakis pants, a tight red t-shirt, and his white running shoes. The look was just as plain as mine; we were always a cute couple like that. His red mane was brushed, but barely tamed. Strands still stubbornly shot forward wildly. He turned over his shoulder, and shot me a smile. One of his boyish grins, which he often wore in the time I knew him. In first year, he was basically made up of the boyish grins. I barely saw those grins anymore. Time had eroded that part of Ron. Now he was different, and only rarely let the old Ron out.

He jumped up as I approached, and we headed down to the dining hall. We walked silently. Ron resembled a zombie early in the morning. Without food, he was brain dead. His whole body was geared towards getting food and coffee. A mechanization set on moving forward, and nothing else. Whenever Ron slept in and had to attend a class in the morning before eating breakfast, he'd sit there silently. A stoic position, in which he gained no knowledge or paid any attention. He just existed in a place between wakefulness and sleep. In his later years, he just started to skip those classes. 'Never get anything out of them anyway,' he used to say. I never supported that decision of his; there was always some worth in attending class. Still, as much as I hated to admit it, there was some truth to it.

The dining hall was scattered with occasional students shot out like buckshot. Most of the students used the opportunity to sleep in after a Ball. The few students who were eating, were largely lower years. I did not recognize a single upper year there, but I only gave it a brief glance across the room. Ron grabbed himself three eggs he covered in salt and pepper, black coffee, and a stack of burnt toast. I chose a small bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. We moved over to the part of the table we used to sit in fifth year, back when we usually ate together. Now a days, we generally arrived at the dining hall separately, and grabbed empty seats accordingly. With the whole room mostly empty, we could sit where we wanted. We both moved to the spot.

Ron took two sips from his coffee, and asked me "so, how was your night?" His tone was light; he only wanted to spark easy conversation.

"Could have went better. It's a long story," I said, unsure how to describe the whole affair.

"That's too bad," Ron spoke, chewing a piece of egg. His tone unaffected by my comment. Disinterested in what I had to say. "My night was good. Sort of uneventful though. Lavender and I danced most of the night. Never danced that much in my life. Lavender wouldn't quit until the band stopped. I ache everywhere; like in places I did not even know could ache before. Lavender and I went back to Gryffindor afterwards and sat in one of the couches afterwards. Lavender's feet were bruised; it was dumb to dance in those heels. I'm not sure what she was thinking. So, I spent the rest of the night giving them a rub. Not the most romantic way to end the night, but she was grateful. Promised to return the favour later. Can't complain with that." He spoke with a grin, poking his burnt toast with his fork.

I felt an anger build within me. I couldn't believe him. He just wanted to talk about himself. Himself and Lavender, which was even worse. With the wave of a hand, he shrugged off my experience. Was he not curious? Did he really only care about himself? What a narcissistic jerk. Why did I feel this way? Why did I want him to be better? I should have just identified that it was not going to work. He and I were not connecting. Instead, I dragged myself through mud. Wondering what was wrong with me. Why did he not want to give me the same attention? What did Lavender have which I did not?

He felt far away. Outside of my grasp. Even though, I could have just moved my hand. Touched the fork between his fingers, and explained my situation. But I couldn't. The muscles refused to move. I refused to move. Such a fool! Such a childish idiot.

"That's nice," I finally spoke. I turned my attention to my cereal. I ate a spoonful, but I was not hungry. My appetite was somewhere else. I felt like I was losing myself. I had already lost my heart before.

"Hey Ron," I muttered.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"What was up with Harry last night? He wasn't acting like himself. Like, really not acting like himself."

"In what way?" He set his cutlery down, finally giving me his full attention.

"Well," I tried to think of a way to express it. "He," I started, but I stopped myself.

Ron smiled at my hesitation. "Come on Hermione. Out with it."

"He was violent," I said. "Not with me, but with my friend. Nott and I were by the side of the lake for a bit, and well. He showed up and just sort of attacked Nott. Said something about needing to be in a fight. I was able to stop it, but. I don't know. I've never seen him like that. Did something happen?"

Ron's smile evaporated from his face. He dropped his shoulders, and the boyishness left his demeanour. He prodded his toast again with his fork for a moment. "Really? Shit. That's hard to imagine."

"Are you doubting me?" I asked, accusingly.

"No, no!" Ron quickly back tracked, raising his hands into the air. "You wouldn't lie about something like that. I only meant it's hard to imagine that happened. Harry's not like that."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm asking if something happened. It doesn't seem like something, he would just do. He was with a couple of the Quidditch guys. Seamus was one of them, not sure about the others. Did not have a chance to have a look at their faces. It happened pretty quickly."

In a reserved tone, Ron spoke "that sounds about right. I don't know much about all that, but I do know a little bit. Harry was spending the night with Quidditch team." Ron stopped momentarily. "If you could try to keep it on the downlow, I would appreciate it. You'll hear about it soon enough from others, but, still, the other guys would not appreciate me telling you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I said.

"I was with a bunch of the guys before the ball. We were pre-drinking in our locker room. Some of the guys did not have dates, and they were drinking pretty heavily, Harry included. Never seen him drink so much vodka before. A bunch of them were pretty frustrated that they did not have dates. The conversation shifted to how they could fix the problem. They decided they'd go out on the prowl. But it was nasty stuff. They were talking about it like they were entitled to dates; the girls were their property. Only right of the Quidditch team. Harry was quiet through most of this; he was focusing on drinking. I thought the environment was getting pretty toxic, so I left.

"I heard from Lavender that a couple of the girls from Gryffindor were harassed by the boys later. It culminated in a bunch of the boys berating Fay. Her date to the ball was Blaise, and they were calling her nasty shit about picking a Slytherin over a Gryffindor. Harry tried to convince her to date him instead, but she shot him down hard. That's the last I heard from Lavender. Fay took Lavender aside soon afterwards and brought her up to speed. That's the last I heard of it. Harry and Seamus did show up the latest after curfew too, not sure what to make of that. I don't know more than that. Not sure if it helps at all. You'll have to ask Harry."

House pride was the reason for all of that shit? That sounded so juvenile. Could that have been the source of Harry's actions? Would Harry have actually stupped that low?

"It helps. Thanks Ron." I said to him. An explanation still felt distant. Even with the new information, I could barely see how the pieces would fit together. I was one of Harry's best friends, and a stupid Gryffindor pride was all that it took for him to act that way? It couldn't be the only answer. There must have been something else. Right? Or was Harry not quite what I imagined.

"So you were with Nott then?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, we headed out soon after I met up with you."

"Cool, cool."

Ron and I ate the rest of our breakfast in silence. I left most of my cereal untouched. Ron scuffed down his eggs and toast. We parted ways with a couple shared words, and I made my way towards the library. I needed to clear my head. Gryffindor would only confuse me further.

The library was completely empty. No one needed to use the library this early, the morning after a ball. Except me, apparently. I walked over to the table the study group used. I sat down in my usual seat. Across from where Nott usually lounged. It was hard to believe he'd been feeling magical auras all this time. Like I'd been staring at a painting for weeks, without ever paying enough attention to notice the shape within the frame. I took out my bag, set my Arithmancy book on the table, a notebook, and two pens. But I did not open the book. Instead I stared at them, I just fucking stared at them like an idiot. Harry and Ron were not acting right. They were not acting how they should have been. Not like I knew them to act. And Nott, I did not even really know the slightest thing about him.

Did I know anything? I felt like my world was crashing down around me. I let out a sob. A guttural reaction which came out like a twitch. I felt pathetic. Feeling about myself like this, alone in the library.

"Hey Hermione!" Hannah greeted from the entrance of the library. I wiped my face with my hands quickly. Hoping she did not notice the state I was in. Hannah wore her hair in an orange bandana. A loose blouse dangled from her shoulders and tanned pants were tied around her waist with a piece of white rope. She held a large thin square shaped thing under her arm. The shape was wrapped in a cloth, stopping me from being able to make out what it was. "What are you doing here this early?"

I looked down at my books organized on the table. What was I doing here? "Had an early breakfast with Ron. Wanted to clear my head afterwards."

"Cool. Where'd you disappear to last night? You walked off at one point, and I didn't see you again." Hannah spoke. She took her seat at the table, and rested the square shaped thing against one of the legs of the table.

"I met up with some Gryffindor kids for a bit, then Nott and I headed outside."

A smile grew on Hannah's lips. "I knew you two wondered off together. Terry was sceptical, but I was insistent. He didn't see you two leave either. You guys really snuck out from under our noses."

"Sorry about that." I apologized.

"Hey, don't apologize about that! We were all bad about communication. We'll just have to remember to be better at sticking together the next time we go to something as the study group. What did you and Nott do outside?"

"We headed down to the lake, and sat around for a bit. It was nice. I was glad for the chance to take off those awful heels I was wearing. It wasn't anything special. After a bit we parted ways, and I just went back to Gryffindor and slept." There was no reason to concern Hannah with what happened with Harry.

"Might not have be special, but it sounds nice."

"Yeah, it was. What did you end up doing for the rest of it?"

"Well, once Stephen and I finished our dance, Nott and you were gone. So, Terry, Ernie, Stephen, and I just stood in a corner and talked.

I was reminded of Stephen and Hannah's dance. The whole idea of the act seemed a little absurd to me. Hannah agreeing to dance with another boy, with Nott standing right next to her. How could she be so cruel? Was it cruel? I didn't know. I had been so wrong about Nott. Was I so wrong about Hannah? "Why did you dance with him?"

Hannah looked up at me. "He asked me, why else would I?" Her voice sounded confused by my question.

"Right, that makes sense." I said. Deja vu.

"How was it?" I asked.

"It was alright," Hannah commented. "Stephen's not a very good dancer. I had much more energy. Spent most of the time leading him. He sort of stumbled along. We didn't dance too long."

"That reminds me of the times I danced with Ron," I reminisced. "Never met someone who was as bad at dancing than Ron. You'd think the boy was deaf to rhythm or something. Stepped on my feet all the time."  
>"Seems as though he's gotten better though. You should have seen him Lavender. They were a dancing machine. Lavender wouldn't quit, even when they finished the music. They weren't bad either. Sure put Stephen and I to shame. They must have been practising. Really knew each others moves."<p>

A jealously built in me at Hannah's words. I was angry that Ron was connecting to Lavender, if only on a superficial level. It was sure better than how Ron and I had been recently. We did not understand each other. On a fundamental level, there was a disconnect. All of the time we spent together, he never once asked me what was wrong. He never thought that maybe I was unhappy. That something was bugging me. He just continued to laugh and talk about Lavender. Like I was not even there. His conversations could have been with a brick wall, and he would have gotten the same out of it.

I wanted to change the subject. "What's under the cloth Hannah?" I asked, pointing at the square shape leaning against the table leg.

"It's a canvas," she spoke, grabbing it. She flattened the square on the table, and removed the cloth. A blank white canvas rested there. She brushed the surface with her fingers. "It came in the mail today. That's why I'm up this early."

"Why are you in the library then?"

"Oh, just wanted to see if anyone else was here. The library was on the way back to HufflePuff. I was wondering what happened to you and Nott last night. If either of you were here, I could find out. And well, you were."

"That's convenient." I spoke.

"Very," Hannah covered the canvas again with the cloth.

"I didn't know you paint," I said, bringing the conversation back to the canvas.

"I don't, or at least I haven't in a while." she spoke solemnly. "I used to paint a lot. When I first came to Hogwarts, I was like a machine. Each painting was a different puzzle to be solved. A collection of colours and ideas which needed to fit together just perfectly. I was a member of the HufflePuff Arts Club and everything. Then, in third year, it got personal. And, I guess I didn't like it as much when it's personal. I stopped painting. Haven't really since."

"So, what's with the canvas then?" I asked.

"Well," she paused, "I've been trying to change myself these past couple of weeks. So far, it's been mostly cosmetic. Like the piercings, and dying my hair. But, I was thinking if there was something else I wanted to do. And I thought: I want to paint again. Even if it's personal. This is sort of the first step of that. We'll see how successful it is."

"That sounds really nice Hannah. What are you going to paint?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I was hoping having the canvas would help to inspire me. I have a theme, or at least, I know the purpose of the painting. Just not sure what to paint yet."

"What's the purpose?" I asked. "If you don't mind."

"No, no, of course I don't. It's a little embarrassing though." She took a deep breath. "To find myself. It sounds dumb, I know. But it's sort of been my mantra recently. It's based on some advice Nott gave me a while back. Which really helped refocus myself. And if the painting's nice, I want to give it to Nott. As a 'thank-you', I guess."

"Really?" I bit the bottom of my lip. The words had run out of my mouth before my mind caught up. The tone sounded cynical, or at least disingenuous. Her words had affected me though. Like a blow to my stomach. My mind curled into a ball. Why did it hurt? Her words carried no venom, or hate. Still, my heart began to race. Why did I feel this way?

"Yeah. You don't think he'd mind do you?"

I stared at her for a second. I learned something in that moment. How little I really knew. Not only about Hannah and Nott, but about everything. I knew nothing. My ignorance felt like a great expanding gorge. Each time I felt like I arrived at the other edge, the distance grew.

"Are you kidding? I'm sure he'll love it." I told her.

"Thanks Hermione. You're a good friend. All this talk is making me excited. I'm going to go and try to start this. I'll see you later."

"See you Hannah."

Hannah tucked the canvas back under her arm, and walked out of the library. I leaned back into my chair. The front legs of my chair off of the ground. My face turned upwards towards the ceiling. In the way Nott had done every day the past few weeks.

For whatever reason, Hannah's words felt personal to me. Like her admission about Nott was a jab at me. Why should I care? Why did I care? Why was I so disappointed? I thought there was nothing between them. Not after the Ball, at least. And was there? What did the painting mean? What did any of it mean? What had Ron meant when he asked about Nott? Did he care?

I wanted to know! I wanted a fucking answer. Instead, I sat there, alone in the library, leaning back in my chair, completely shrouded in ignorance. I hated it. I wanted to kill it. I wanted to... I just... damn. Why was it so difficult? Why was it so complicated? Why were there no simple questions or easy answers? It felt unfair. Life felt unfair. I was trapped in a raging stream, unable to fight back. Forced to follow the path laid out before me.

...

Author's Notes: This chapter is only half of what I intended to write from Chapter 12. So, Hermiones's story will probably be made up of five chapters instead of four. There's just so many things I want to write about her!

Apparently there's a new cover picture system on the site. I think this is cool, but I have no talent for art. If anyone is interested in making a small image they think would fit this story, I will happily use it. I would rather use something one you make, then something I would just put together quickly.

Thank you to everyone who left a review on the last chapter. There were some nice encouraging words. Always appreciate the support.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	13. Wake Up, Silly Girl II

Chapter 13: Wake Up Silly Girl II

I spent the rest of the morning in the library. Lounging into the back of my chair, silent. The room was empty, for the most part. Pince arrived around noon. She took her place behind the counter, her shirt wrinkled. Like always, she looked dishevelled. Her hand pressed against her temple. The arms of the clock moved forward behind her. The silence continued around the room. I doubt she liked the library. Everything about her gave an impression of annoyance. She seemed frustrated by her life. A frown permanently written over her face.

Later, a group of four students entered: three girls and one boy. They moved around the stacks in a clump. One of the girls would grab a book, and the others would share a whisper. Giggling at each others comments. They moved next to the Study Group's table, paying attention to the books surrounding me. I didn't say anything. They joked amongst each other. They were only in the library to spend time together. A small group of lower years, filling the empty time of their day. I tapped my pen against the table. Frustration building in me. One of the girls, with a long black pony-tail, suggested they move on. Another girl wearing a HufflePuff pin agreed. And soon Pince and I were alone once more.

I focused back on my books in front of me. Slowly, my mind wandered into the past. Before the library was the place I spent time with the study group. When Harry, Ron and I used to waste our time here. Harry and Ron never liked the books. But, we liked the separation. How we were able to be alone here. When our time was unaffected by house politics, by other boys and girls, by Quidditch. My favourite time in Hogwarts.  
>Although, did that time ever really exist? Or was it a fantasy in my mind. Still, it was my favourite fantasy. A place I could lose myself. I leaned back into my chair and dreamed. Of being surrounded by those two. Of wasting time with them. Of kisses. Of their attention. Of their affection. Of where I wanted to be.<p>

But, over time, the dream crumbled. The image was too pure, too distant from my life. I wanted to live now. To be in the moment of my life. Which may not involve those other two. My stomach churned at the idea, but there was a truth to it. Did it have to be Harry and Ron? Did it have to be Ron? Could it not be Terry, Hannah, and Nott? Could it not be Nott?

Terry joined me before dinner. I had no idea I'd been in the library that long. The time had slipped through me fingers. The arms of the clock raced against me. He brought two suppers stacked in styrofoam boxes. "I was wondering if you wanted to join me for some food in the courtyard. It may be the last nice day to be outside before fall turns into winter."

"Sure, how's you know I'd be in here?"

"I had a hunch," he said with a smile. The tall boy wore a long white polo shirt and black pants. He towered over me. The dinners tucked under his arm. I followed his lead out of the library and down to the courtyard. Terry cut through the crowds in the hallways. The people split like waves faced with a rock. His presence was different from others. He had an authority to his movements. I wondered to the extent he was aware of it himself.

The courtyard was a patch of grass enclosed by on all sides by the walls of the school. A single tree sat in the middle. Its branches long dead. Only magic kept the old thing alive. The courtyard was often filled with Slytherins. An exit out to the courtyard was close to the entrance of Slytherin. Whenever the students wanted to escape their gloomy windowless house, they used the courtyard. But, now, the courtyard was empty. It was warmer outside than it had been for days. Cold fall air fought against the setting sun. The temperature was sure to drop soon. Terry and I were fighting against time.

We sat down next to the tree, and Terry set out the dinners. They were combinations of different options he'd stolen out of the dining hall. A piece of roast beef, potatoes, and a selection of greens lined the styrofoam box. I ate mine with barely a word. At breakfast, I had no more than two bites. My hunger finally caught up to me. The food was mediocre, but I was thankful for the relief. "Thanks Terry. That hit the spot."

"No problem. See it as a gift for your help these past few days."

"You don't need to get me gifts Terry."

"True, but I still feel better this way," he said with a smirk. A red bird chirped above us. It's voice following a high pitched tune. Terry stared upwards, watching the bird fly. "I am really thankful. I've never really talked with someone about my personal issues like that. But I think it really helped."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was really afraid going into last night. It was like my head was a movie theatre. Frames of failure passing before my mind's eye. They blocked my vision. I couldn't even see in front of me. But, when it actually came to it, I was calm. I felt like, like I already knew the worst. I was willing to try success. Like you suggested."

"That's good to hear. So it was a success then? Ernie was cool?" I asked.

"Cool?" Terry exaggerated the word. "He was more than cool. Like, the coolest. We just joked the whole time. There was no pretension. It didn't feel 'different' or 'special'. Instead, it was as normal as normal could be."

"Sounds like you're smitten. A perfect night?"

"Well, maybe not perfect, but it played out far better than my worries. Next time, we need to make sure the Study Group stay together. It got a little awkward by the end, just Ernie, Hannah and I. "  
>"Sorry about that. I'll try not to run off next time." I paused. "So, did you kiss him?" I joked, jabbing him in the side.<p>

First, a smile grew on Terry's lips. Then, he changed his expression to a forced seriousness. "That is none of your business Hermione Granger. A boy never kisses and tells."

"So that's a yes?"

"Absolutely."

We shared a laugh. The sun set. Brilliant colours painted the sky. An orange canopy hung over us. The air cooled off. A brittle fall wind filled the air. The red bird chirped over top of us.

"Any news on the Ron front?" Terry asked.

"No. Nothing's changed. He still ignores me."

"You really need to confront him Hermione. Letting those emotions fester is doing you no favour."

"I know. I just can't bring myself to do it." I rested my head in my hands. My body felt heavy. Like I was ineffective. Life moved past me. The rule of Magic burned in the back of my mind. Everything was possible, no matter what I did. I felt insignificant. Failure could happen no matter how much I tried. I sat outside the chain of causation. A voyeur who could not bring herself to do something as trivial as talk to her high school crush. How juvenile! How stupid.

"I heard you snuck off with Nott last night." Terry spoke, changing the subject.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Hannah. She found me earlier, and bragged about being right. She was convinced immediately when she found you two gone after her dance. I was less sure. What'd you two do?"

"We just went out for some air. Sat next to the lake. Nothing special."

"Sounds romantic," Terry crooned.

"Hardly. I doubt Nott was particularly smitten after one of my best friends attacked him."

"What?"

I told Terry about how Harry showed up, his irrelevance to me, Harry pushing Nott to the ground, him trying to bait him into a fight, the way Nott walked off, and how I tackled Harry to the ground.

"I'm surprised. What an asshole. Harry's usually pretty levelheaded, but that's inexcusable."

"It's really unlike him."

"Still, if he wants to act that way towards one of the study group, then fuck him. Good on you for sticking up for yourself too. He probably felt pretty stupid afterwards, if you had to get involved like that. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side."

"Thanks, I guess."

"It's funny, Hannah didn't mention anything about that."

"That's because I did not tell her."

"Why not?"

"Just didn't feel like the right time. She was excited about her painting. And," I paused momentarily. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"What's up with Hannah and Nott? Whenever I feel like I understand them, I learn something which complicated the whole picture."

"Unfortunately, I'm just as ignorant as you are. Those two are quite the conundrum." He admitted.

"I wonder why they're so secretive about it."

"I doubt it's a matter of secrecy. I bet they're just as confused as we are. It's kind of sad actually. They seem so close, but something's holding them back."

"I guess so."

"Well, this has been nice. I have to head back to Ravenclaw. The boys had some plans for the night. They were quite insistent that I joined them. Are you up to anything tonight?"

"No, I think I'll stay here for a bit. It's nice outside. I would like to do some reading before it gets too cold."

"Alright, cool." Terry stood up. He grabbed the styrofoam boxes we ate from, and headed back inside.

I sat against the tree, reading my book. _Norwegian Wood_ held close to my chest. The red bird sang a quiet tune from the rooftop. My skin shivered against the cold wind. I rarely read in the open air. After Halloween, the air became too cutting. So far during sixth year, I spent my time largely in the library. Waiting for the Study Group, or hiding from the rest of my life.

The orange of the sky eventually turned dark, and I was joined by two boys in the courtyard. They walked onto the grass, and lit their black cigarettes: Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Malfoy wore tight black pants, and a tucked in white dress shirt. Nott had his leather jacket around his arms, unzipped; a Screaming Females t-shirt beneath it. His tight pants choking his legs. Black hair styled poorly messed the top of his head. I stared as they moved towards the tree. Initially, they did not notice my presence. They talked in hushed voices between each other. Malfoy was the first to see me. He hit Nott on the chest, and pointed in my direction. Nott waved.

I fit _Norwegian Wood _back into my bag. Resting it against Nott's flask. "Hey Nott," I called, returning the wave.

The two of them walked over to me. They were softened in the darkness. The night hiding the details of their black clothes. "Hey Hermione," Nott greeted, as he approached. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just reading outside. Trying to enjoy the last good night before fall turns into winter." I said, using Terry's words. "What are you doing out here?"

"We come out here every night. Slytherin is always so stuffy. It's nice to be outside. Able to clear our heads and have a smoke. Escape a bit of the bullshit. Right Draco?"

"Sure," Malfoy spoke. His voice neutral and uninterested. He turned his head towards me. "Granger," he greeted with a sharp tone.

"Malfoy," I returned the sentiment.

"Nott, I think I'm going to head back in. It's fucking cold out here. Have fun with your girl." Malfoy said.

"You sure man?" Nott asked.

"Yeah, I'll see you later." He turned around. "And Granger. Tell your friend Harry he's lucky, damned lucky, Nott's such a fucking nice guy. Things would have played out differently otherwise." With a wave of his hand, he started to walk away, and went back inside; throwing his cigarette butt against the wall as he entered.

Nott moved forward and sat against the tree with me. His black smoke dangling on lips. The red bird flew down from the roof, onto the tree: singing its song over top of us.

"What was that about?" I asked, confused by Malfoy's words.

"When I was heading back to Slytherin last night, I ran into Draco. He asked what happened to me. I tried to tell him I simply slipped, but he's good at getting the truth out of me. I'm not a good liar." Nott took a drag; the smoke crawled out of his mouth. He fiddled with the cigarette between his fingers, until he threw it to the ground. Crushing the red ashes with his foot. "Draco took great offence to it all. He saw it as a personal insult; Harry showed disrespect to his friends and his house. Before I knew what was happening, he organized a group of Slytherins ready to attack any Gryffindor they saw. They were ready to go out on the prowl, but I was able to convince him out of it. The whole thing was about to get out of hand. Draco was not a big fan of my opinion, but he respects me. Still, he's trying to find an excuse to exact some revenge."

"Thanks for doing that Nott."

"Hey, it's no problem," he said, flashing me a smile.

The red bird continued to play its song. Night had darken the whole sky. The orange of the sun was gone. "I have your flask." I said. My bag was fitted between us. I reached in the top, and took out the small silver flask. Nott grabbed it from my hand. His fingers cold.

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip. "You want some? We might as well finish it off."

"There's classes tomorrow."

"You'll be fine. Our first class es in the afternoon. And, there's barely anything in this," he said, shaking the flask.

"You overestimate my alcohol tolerance. I'd never even had straight whiskey before last night. Or any straight liquor for that matter."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm such a dork." I said, putting my head in my hands.

"Hey," Nott said. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that, the few times I've seen Ron and Harry drink, they were going at it pretty heavily. I always assumed the three of you did it together, considering how often you're together. Also, I wouldn't worry about the dorkyness. I'm pretty dorky myself."

I smiled. "You are. Punk rock? Really? Such a dork."

"Lets be honest though. Dorky punk rock is the coolest kind of dork."

"You can tell yourself that." We shared a laugh. I grabbed the flash out of Nott's hand, and took a sip. My mind wandered back to our conversation, and my smile slowly dissipated. "I don't really see Ron and Harry that much. Not nearly as much as we used to. It's mostly my fault. I've often refused to go along to their Quidditch parties. So, I've missed out on that side of them. And, after last night, I'm starting to wonder if it's more than just that side. I keep thinking about." I stopped myself, before I said any more.

"About what?"

"Nothing."

"Come on."

"It's going to sound stupid."

"I doubt that."

"Are you familiar with the rule of magic?"

"From Arithmancy?"

"Yeah."

"It goes like 'everything is possible from anything': alpha, therefore beta right?"

"That's the one. I know the rule's mostly syntactic. It's used to fill a hole in logic magic creates. But, still, I can't stop thinking about it. If everything is possible from anything, then there's no necessity. Nothing is connected. When I look at Harry and Ron, I see this gap between us. Our actions should be related. We should be determined. But, instead, it's all random. I feel like I have no control. Things are things, and stuff happens. Sorry, I'm not making sense."

Nott was quiet for a second. He took another sip of the flask, and handed it back to me. The red bird chirped. "I think you make sense, but I'm not sure I agree with it."

"How so?"

"Well, maybe because I read magical auras, I see things a little differently. When I touch an aura, I feel like everything is connected. There's this web of magic we're a part of. Our energies, feelings, experiences affect everything. We're always moving through this, like, holistic sea." He paused momentarily. "Can you hear that bird?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a drink from the flask in my hand.

"I use it as my focal point when I try to read the aura of the courtyard. The whole of the courtyard is too big and broad to get a reading. It just comes out as white noise. But, by focusing the bird, I'm able to access the subtleties: the magic radiating from the tree's branches, the charms blowing through the windows, the warmth of the sun, the thrill of flying. All of the courtyard is captured in the small point, because it's all connected. The bird's in the courtyard, and the courtyard's in the bird. Something so small as the bird, plays a necessary part of the whole picture."

"Does it have to be a bird?"

Nott drank from the flask. "No. It could be anything really. Anything that's a part of the web. Could even be you or me."

"Why do you pick the birds?" I asked.

"Well, on the last day of fifth year, I," he stopped himself. "I just like the birds. They're the most punk rock."

He was hiding. There was something he did not want to admit to. I did not push further. "Do you need to be familiar with what you're reading?"

"Sure. A personal relationship makes it easier to connect."

"Please tell me you name them."

"What?"

"Do you name the birds?"

"Maybe. No."

"You're lying. What's this bird's name."

"I'm not going to tell you."  
>"Come on."<p>

"Ophelia."

"Ophelia?" I laughed. "You are a dork!"

"Fuck off," he said.

I grabbed the flask from his hands, and took another drink. "Do you think you could teach me to read auras?"

"You want to learn?"

"Sure. I know it's pretty hard, but I'd love to learn some of the basics."

"The basics are all I could teach you."

"That's all I want."

"I guess I could."

"Great!"

"I'll let you know when I'm free."

"I'll do the same." My arms shivered as a gust the wind blew by. "I think I'm going to head back inside. It's getting cold."

"Okay. I think I'm going to stay here for a bit."

"Alright, I'll see you later."

"Later."

I stood in the doorway. Nott stayed under the tree. The darkness muting the details of his leather jacket. His head tilted upwards. A red bird whistled a tune above him. He drank from his flask, resting in his net.

I smiled, and headed back to Gryffindor.

...

Author's Notes: Nott and Hermione sure are cute.

Sorry it took me so long to update.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	14. Fractures Between Us

Chapter 14: Fractures Between Us

I left the courtyard, and moved through the empty hallways alone. The lights were dimmed. A bright moon subtlety shone. The day was exhausting. A series of moments, connected through time: breakfast with Ron, Hannah and her painting, talking with Terry, and Nott in his net. I thought of him sitting there, with his red bird Ophelia, touching the sky. The walk was calming. A brief pause, before things fell apart.

Outside of Gryffindor, Ginny sat on a small ledge. Her hands lay in her lap; her fingers tightening around each other. She wore a long t-shirt, and plaid pants. The outfit she usually slept in. Her red hair, shorter than her brother's, fell to the side of her ears. She looked rattled. The sound of her deep breaths filled the hallway.

"Hey Ginny," I said, approaching the door.

"Hermione!" she called at me, standing abruptly. "Have you heard about Seamus?"

"No. What happened?" I asked.

"It's terrible." She sat back down. Her arms shook a little. I moved forward, and placed my hand on her back. "He was attacked by some kids from Slytherin. They jumped him in a bathroom, just a couple of minutes ago. He came up, and oh Hermione!" She wrapped her arms around my waist. "He looked so awful. His nose was bleeding. There were bruises everywhere. It was overwhelming." She paused. "I couldn't take it. I needed to get out of there. And now I feel like I abandoned him. I'm such a terrible girlfriend." Her voice slowly dissolved into sobs. She was shaken.

"Hey, it's okay." I tried to assure her. This was bad. I hoped the affair between Nott and Harry wouldn't lead to any more fighting. Draco promised there would be no retaliation. Did he lie? "Is Seamus alone?"

"No, there's a couple of guys from the Quidditch team with him."

"Where's the rest of the team?"

"They headed out, to try and find the punks who did this to Seamus."

I feared that would happen. I needed to find Harry. "What about Harry? Did he head out with them?"

"Yeah. He and Ron went together."

"Do you know which direction?"

"They were moving towards Slytherin," she said.

I must have just missed them, heading over here from the courtyard. Shit. Nott was in the courtyard. If the Quidditch team was prowling, looking for a fight, they were likely to head to the courtyard. Any Slytherin in the courtyard was vulnerable. And, if one of the guys who found him were one of the guys with Harry last night, they might blame Nott for the attack. My heart started to race. Everything was a mess. And I was scared.

"Ginny, I'm going to try and meet up with them. Are you okay here?"

Ginny lessened her grip around me. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm going to see Seamus. He needs me right now."

"That sounds good."

We shared a brief hug, and I left Ginny.

The corridors were dark as I moved. The moon reflected a soft light through the windows. A silence filled the space. It was an eery lull. Like there was something ominous looming past each corner. I tried to straighten my thoughts. I thought about Nott, sitting out in the courtyard, reading the auras around him, sitting under the tree, the red bird flying above him. The quiet night holding an unexpected risk. I'd seen him attacked once in the last few days, the last thing I wanted was for him to be attacked again. Nott used to be very insular. Despite sharing many of our classes, we barely spoke before the study group. I did not want him to regress into that. I liked him. I...

Then, I thought of Harry and Ron. My feelings were knotted and disordered. I'd hoped not to face Harry until I'd had a good grip on my feelings. At the moment, they were these forces inside me, I was not sure I could articulate. There was this disapointment, anger, pain curdling in those memories between us. Ron and Harry were my best friends, my family, no one was closer to me and yet, they seemed so far away. Like strangers passing by my life. A brief picture, temporarily projected.

A frustration over the whole event built within me. Why did this need to happen? Why did Harry need to attack Nott? It felt so absurd. I couldn't stand it. Nott may have said that everything's connected, fit within a magical net, but it did not feel that way to me. I was moving through a chain of random occurrences, only connected by time. No matter what I did, things did not work out. Harry attacked Nott; Ron liked Lavender, and I was still lonely and sad. How could that be possible if everything was connected? Shouldn't there be something for me there?

I found Ron and Harry on the second floor, next to the stairwell leading to the basement. They were leaning on the wall, waiting. Harry was standing silent, wearing his thick rimmed glasses. He did not have time to put on his contacts. Ron, on the other hand, was crouched. Every couple of seconds, he moved his hand through his mane of hair. They were resting next to a bathroom, hoping to trap any Slytherin who wandered out of the house. I approached slowly.

"Hermione!" Ron called, noticing my advance. He stood up quickly. "Have you heard about Seamus?"

"Yeah. Ginny told me about it. What are you guys up to?"

"Trying to find out who did it." Ron said slyly, looking at Harry for assurance in his words.

"And then you're going to talk to them nicely, I presume." I said sharply. My patience was limited.

"We'll make that decision when the time comes." Harry said, calmly.

"Cut the bullshit guys. I'm not in the mood. You're looking for revenge, aren't you?" I accused. They looked at each other, perhaps not expecting the directness of my words.

It had been years since the last time we fought. During the beginning of first year, Harry was an awkward kid. He transferred to Gryffindor from Slytherin after the first month, and had trouble settling in with the new house. Most of the kids had already formed cliques and groups of friends. The only kids left alone, were Ron and I; I with my head in books, and Ron with his boyish grin.

Ron and Harry connected over teasing me. They made fun of my hair, my marks, and my lack of friends. In their eyes, I chose not to have friends. I wanted good grades instead of company. In bathroom stalls, on weekends, I used to cry alone.

I did not attend my first Halloween Ball. The event slipped my mind. I'd been reading throughout the morning, and drowning in my doubts during the afternoon, hiding in a bathroom in the basement. After the mandatory attendance was taken, and my absence was known, a number of prefects were sent out in search of me. A seventh year from Slytherin found me. She announced the reason for my absence to the whole school. I was so ashamed I could have died. But, Ron and Harry learned how wrong they'd been. Our relationship changed over night. We became friends. And since then, maybe as a repentance for their past malice, we always tried not to fight. Always tried to get along. But not forever.

"What do you want us to do Hermione? Let Draco and Slytherin get away with this?" Harry asked. He stood up from the wall. Harry wore a white button up shirt and black jeans. The scar on his forehead hid behind his bangs.

"Come on Harry, you know jumping a random kid at this hour will solve nothing. You'll just anger them more. Violence only begets more violence. Also, I don't think Draco had anything to do with this."

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

"I was just with him, a little while ago." I tightened my grip on my bag. _Norwegian Wood_ pressed against my chest; Nott's flask was gone, he'd kept it with him on the courtyard. I hoped he was okay. Somehow, I felt slightly responsible for the whole affair. I knew I was not, but I was filled with this sense of obligation. If I'd handled it better, if Harry and I were better friends, if I was a better person, stronger, then it would not have happened. Nott'd be safe. And I'd be happy ... maybe.

"You were with Draco?" Harry sounded confused.

"Yeah. He seemed annoyed by the whole affair, but he said he wasn't going to retaliate. Nott talked him out of it."

"And you believed him?" Ron asked, as if it were a ludicrous idea. Ron wore a long black shirt, over top of the loose plaid pyjama bottoms he had on in the morning. The red mane was a mess of knots and loose strands: his usual dishevelled look.

"Yes. I was with Nott at the time. Malfoy wouldn't lie to Nott."

"Whose side are you on?" Ron asked.

"Whose side am I on? Since when are we on sides? I don't like Malfoy as much as you. He's always been an asshole. But he's not our enemy." I said.

"He became our enemy when they jumped Seamus. Even if he was not directly involved, Draco's the head of Slytherin. Their actions are his actions."

"You attacked them first! Do you not remember that? They only attacked Seamus because you attacked Nott!"

"So? That's not important now. We have to care about the moment. And in this moment, Ron and I need to assert Gryffindor's might. We can't let them get away with treating Seamus that way."

"Did you just brush aside attacking my friend, ignoring me, because of the importance of asserting Gryffindor's might? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I nearly yelled. My voice filled the hallway. In that moment, I lost any desire to keep things civil. My patience was a thin twig, snapped under the weight. "Lets get something straight, nothing is more important right now than the shit you pulled last night. Get me? You can't let them get away with treating Seamus that way; I can't let you get away with treating Nott that way. Ignoring it will not make it go away."

"Look Hermione, those are totally different."

"How? How are they different? In both cases people were jumped by someone else looking for someone to fight from another house. Only, sounds like Seamus didn't have me to protect him." I said, tightening my grip on my bag.

"You don't understand." Harry tried to insist.

"Where the fuck do you get off? I don't understand? What exactly do I not understand? Tell me! I want to know. Tell me."

"Nott was a mistake, okay? That was a mistake. I shouldn't have tried to fight him. I'm sorry. This, this was a premeditated act of aggression against Gryffindor. We can't sit idly when they do something like this. Did you see Seamus? He was roughed up. Nott barely got pushed. It wasn't that bad. This, this is a different level."

I put my hand to my face, trying to control myself. I leaned against the wall. My hands started to hurt; the bag began to dig into my palms. "Not that bad? Not that bad?" I repeated. "Calling it a mistake does not excuse attacking my friend. Calling it a mistake does not excuse ignoring me. Sure, this attack was worse, but how is attacking someone else supposed to fix that? Nott's out in the courtyard by himself right now. I bet a bunch of your teammates are headed that way, hoping to find some vulnerable guy to beat on, to fulfil your order of establishing Gryffindor's might."

"Hermione, I don't want your friend to be hurt."

"Really? Really? You're going to say that? After everything?" I lowered my voice, to emphasize the sincerity of my words. "If Nott's attacked tonight, I'm never going forgive you. Ever." I stood up straight, and started to walk towards the courtyard. I was done fighting. I was done yelling.

"Hermione, wait," Ron called, grabbing my arm. His grip was firm. He did not want me to leave.

I should have left.

My breaths were heavy. The anger had not dissipated. Beats of my heart pounded against my chest. "Get off of me!" I yelled, pulling Ron's hand off. He recoiled a bit, surprised by the severity of my words.

"You have to be more understanding," Ron tried to suggest.

"You don't mean more understanding. You mean I need accept more of your excuses. Fuck off."

"Look Hermione," Harry tried to clarify. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm really fucking sorry. I cracked. I cracked under the pressure. Quidditch..."

I cut him off before he could finish. "Quidditch? You're going to use Quidditch as an excuse now? You attacked my friend, put our entire friendship at risk, because of a game in which you just hit around some balls? You haven't even played a game since the Halloween tournament. That was days ago. How is it at all relevant?"

Quidditch was Harry's excuse for everything. Since fourth year, when he first made the team, Quidditch became the source of all Harry's actions. Each time he avoided me, blew off plans with Ron and I, went to a party, hung out with other friends, he said it was because of 'Quidditch'. Harry was unable to accept the blame. It was as if the sport had brainwashed him, directing every part of his life. Ron was the same, since he joined at the beginning of this year. It was always Quidditch. I hated it.

"Quidditch is not only a game which just you hit around some balls!" Ron interjected, giving Harry some support.  
>"Oh yeah? Then what is it?"<p>

"It's the fucking foundation of the whole school!" Harry yelled. His patience was gone as well. "All school spirit, house identity, individual pride is based on Quidditch. There's a reason I'm the head of Gryffindor, no matter what any official titles say. Everyone looks up to us. Everyone bases there confidence and hope on the team, on me. There's so much responsibility on my shoulders. It feels like I'm being crushed. And we lost the tournament. Slytherin made us look like chumps."

"And that's supposed to excuse attacking my friend?"

"I cracked okay? I cracked under the pressure. I wasn't strong enough."

"Shut up," I said. "Shut up, shut up. We all know the real reason you did it. You got too drunk, got shot down by Fay in front of your mates, had your pride hurt real bad and thought beating up my friend would make you more of a man."

Harry's face turned stern, and harsh. Like he was fighting a battle within himself. "Fuck you," he finally said. "I don't need this. You haven't listened to a single thing I've said. If you want to be like that, fine. Be that way." Harry walked away.

I held my head in my hands. My anger was exhausting. I was emotionally drained. The night had turned out all wrong, and I knew I was partly to blame. But, in a sense, it was necessary. I could not just sit back and take it. I needed to stand up for Nott, I needed to stand up for myself. I only wished it was not at the expense of my best friend.

Ron stayed by my side. Watching as Harry walked away, he moved towards the wall. "I don't believe you said that to him Hermione. That was harsh."

"Yeah, maybe he needed harsh." I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself down. "And what the hell's up with you anyway? Always taking his side. You could have backed me up at some point. I explained to you what happened. You know what's going on. Why were you defending him? Why were you accusing me?"

"I'm sorry Hermione," he spoke, frankly. "But, Harry's my captain. I can't just turn my back on him. He's special."

"Yeah? Yeah?" My anger started to build once more. "And then what am I? You didn't seem to have any trouble turning your back on me. I'm just some trash ready to be discarded?"

"No, of course you're not. Calm down. You're still a friend."

"Just a friend? Just another one of your many friends. Glad to hear you hold me in such high regard. Here I was, thinking our time together meant something to you. I guess I'm just a fucking idiot."

"I didn't mean it like that," Ron said, his voice sounding desperate. "You're not being understanding again. I didn't mean you're just another of my friends. You're special Hermione. You've always been special. Come on Hermione, you know that."

I leaned against the wall. My emotions were overwhelming. Everything was crashing around me. I was trapped in this large earthquake. Watching as everything was shaken around me. Those thoughts I held crumbling before me. I started to cry. "It hasn't felt like that. Ron, when was the last time we talked, like really talked? We're always struggling to find things to discuss. You just talk about Quidditch or Lavender. We never talk about you, about me, about us."

"There's not much else to say. Quidditch and Lavender are my life."

"Come on, there must be more. You must have dreams, feelings, hopes, something." I started to feel tears fall down my cheeks. I rolled in a ball, hoping to hide my face. A great shame over my actions built in me. "We used to talk about ourselves. About real things, important things. I haven't said anything to you in months. Nothing of any meaning. Ron, I've been so unhappy. And I've been so jealous. I hate to see you and Lavender together."

Ron's face started to twitch, as he attempted to hide his emotions. "Please Hermione, I don't want to hear this. Please stop."

"I don't want to stop. I want to tell the truth. Say what I actually feel for once. I've liked you for so long. Seeing you with her has been tearing me apart. I can't stand it. I miss what we used to be. I miss you. I want you. I want us. You mean everything to me. You're all I think about. And I've been so sad. I've been so pathetic. What happened to us?"

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" Ron said, yelling the last time. "You idiot. Stop Hermione. Stop. Please."

"Why?" I asked, barely able to speak. My mouth shook, as I completely lost control of my emotions.

"Because what do you want me to do?" He said, anger evident in his voice. "What do you want me to do? Look, you want to know what happened between us? Why we didn't work? It's because you pushed me away. You're the one who never cared about me. And now, now you're acting like I'm the bad guy. I liked you for so long. You meant everything to me. But you, you didn't want anything to do with me."

"That's not true!" I said, raising my head.

"Yes it is! Yes it is! And you fucking know it!" He yelled. A sadness painted his face. He held his face in his hands, to hide if he was crying. The red mane a mess. "Everything, everything you've done in the past couple of months, has completely ignored me. If I meant anything to you, you made sure not to show it. You're the one who insisted on taking every single honours course, ensuring we were in no classes together. You're the one who always wanted to study instead of make time for me. You're the one who refused to come to any social event, any party with Harry and I. You're the one who insisted I try out for Quidditch. Everything else in your life is more deserving of your time than me. For the longest time, I felt like shit. You meant everything to me, and you made me feel completely worthless. And now, you say lies like I mean everything to you. No. No I don't. If I did, you would have cared, you would have at least tried to be with me. But you didn't."

"Ron..." I tried to say, but he cut me off.

"You know what Lavender does, Hermione? She sits with me in every class. We do all of our homework together. When she's free, she comes to the Quidditch practices, and always tries to come to the parties. Some nights, we just decide to spend it together, and leave our homework or other responsibilities for later. You may say you like me, but you've never shown it. Lavender has. And I'm sorry but, that means more to me than a couple of words."

Before I could say anything more, Ron walked away. I wiped my cheeks with the palms of my hands. Everything was wrong. It all played out so incorrectly. There were ruins, where there once was mountains. And I was broken. In a state of total desolation. The brief conversation played back in my mind. The words I spoke felt foolish, stupid, awful. I was foolish; I was stupid; I was awful.

After a few minutes, I stood up, and climbed down the stairs. By Slytherin, I walked out into the courtyard. The single tree stood erect, and Nott was nowhere to be seen. But, instead of feeling relieved, I felt even more isolated. The bright moon had taken the place of the warm sun. A cold wind blew into me, cutting through my skin. It dug deep underneath my defences. I bled those feelings; the emotions I'd trapped inside me for so long. I called out in sobs. A sad little girl, who was destroyed. There, on the grass, I felt alone. More alone than I'd felt since first year, crying in the bathroom stalls. What had I done? What could I do? It was all twisted. And I felt like it was my fault.

There alone, I was at my worst. Even the whistles from the red bird, Ophelia, could not save me. I was drowning. Thrown into the sea of my doubts. Unwilling to struggle, unwilling to save myself: an idiot without hope. A picture decaying through time. A reflection in broken water. Me, alone.

...

...

...

Author's Notes:

The conversation between Ron and Hermione was the first idea I had for this story. Before I was going to write a story about a study group, I was going to write a conversation between Hermione and Ron, from Hermione's perspective, which destroys her. The entire story grew out of that simple scene.

Because of this, perhaps, it was the most difficult scene to write. It felt like a Sisyphean task. I was never satisfied with anything I wrote. Nothing was perfect enough. So, I took a break from the story. Barely wrote anything in a month. Until, finally, I sat down and wrote it out. I'm not sure if I like it, but I feel like it will do.

I'm sorry for the wait. Thanks for all the nice reviews. They're always a pleasure to read.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	15. Two Hearted

Chapter 15: Two Hearted

The next week passed by in a blur. I hid in the girls dorm. All of the shame, frustration, doubt, and sorrow curdled in my stomach, leaving me crippled. I could not face the world. The gaze of others felt like a blinding light burning into my retina; I cowered, as cowards do, and sobbed under my blankets. I was angry at myself. Angry at what I did, and what I did not do. How my actions ruined everything, and how I let everything ruin. It all seemed hopeless. No matter how much I had tried, my life felt shattered. I was tired; I was done with it.

Still, my depression could not keep me from my classes. I attended them all, but tried to minimize my exposure to the world. Around fifteen minutes after a class started, I would casually walk through the door. I would sit at the closest empty seat, making sure to avoid anyone I knew. Before the class ended, I would collect my things into my bag. The minute before the bell, announcing the end of the period, I would sneak through the door. No one had a chance to talk to me; no one had a chance to see what a wreck I was.

My meals consisted mostly of stale muffins, firm buns, and old sandwiches left out on the counter of the dining hall. I made sure to grab the food after breakfast, right before it was cleaned up for lunch. The breads were sour, and often hard in the evening. I stole a small brick of butter on a stainless steel tray, and kept it in a drawer next to my bed. For dinner, I'd spread a thin layer on the tough crust, hoping to add some flavor. The food was always awful, but it was better than facing everyone. Better than showing everyone my face.

When I walked through the halls, I tried to hide within the crowds. My wardrobe consisted of white button up shirts, and grey cardigans. A normal outfit in the sea of students. I tied my hair back; and walked with my head down. If I had a moment of eye contact, with someone passing by, I looked away. It took too much from me, to imagine myself in someone else's gaze. I moved like a phantom, barely there. I made sure to avoid the places I knew others would be. Throughout the week, I never walked outside, or even looked at the Quidditch pitch through a window. I avoided the basement, the larger halls, and the Gryffindor common room. Most importantly, I made sure to stay away from the library. I would climb stairwells, or walk around the school, so I did not have to see the door; so I did not have to see them; so I did not have to think about them; so I did not have to think about me.

In the girl's dorm, I hid in my bed. The other girls tried to ignore my presence. None of them asked me whether something was wrong. I'm not sure what they'd heard, but I could hear their whispers through the door. They'd stand in the spiral stairwell, and mention my name. Still, I appreciated the space they gave me. I did not want to talk with them, even if that sparked rumours. Rumours were empty words. All I had were feelings. Terrible feelings festering in my stomach, refusing to let me sleep. I did not care about words.

I passed the time reading books. I finished _Norwegian Wood_, and began to read a collection of Hemingway's short stories I'd taken out from the library the week before. I cried, reading 'Big Two-Hearted River'.

_Nick __did __not __want __to __go __in __there __now. __He __felt __a __reaction __against __deep __wading __with __the __water __deepening __up __under __his __armpits, __to __hook __big __trout __in places __impossible __to __land __them. __In __the __swamp __the __banks __were __bare, __the __big __cedars __came __together __overhead, __the __sun __did __not __come __through, __except __in __patches; __in __the __fast __deep __water, __in __the __half __light, __the __fishing __would __be __tragic. __In __the __swamp __fishing __was__ a __tragic __adventure. __Nick __did __not __want __it. __He __didn't __want __to __go __up __the __stream __any __further __today._

In the dorm, I felt like an anomaly. A cancer on the cells around me. The addled growth, turning the room to ruin. Better to be gone.

Sleep was gruelling. I'd lie on the bed, my hair loose on the pillow, sweat crawling down my chest, turning from one side to another, never comfortable enough, the heat digging into my neck, my eyes open and afraid. I had vivid dreams. They were whirlpools of emotion; I'd flow to an erotic high of a boy with black hair slipping his hand between my legs, creeping along my skin. His cold fingers made me shiver; my thighs twitched and my knees locked. But, as I approached the peak, doubt pulled me back, spiralling downwards. Awful words were thrown by those I trusted most. Ron, Harry, the study group, my teachers, my parents cut into my stomach, and made me bleed. Sharp words, tearing into my fears: failure at school, loss of friends; rejection by the boy and his hand. And I'd wake, and I'd wake, I'd wake, and I'd wish it was over, everything. I just wanted things to be done. I wanted to be gone. Alone, in the dark, lying on my bed, I felt so far away from everything. From my friends, from my hopes, from my happiness, from myself. I was lost in an empty forest, with no way to escape. Every step brought me deeper, further dark trees locking me within; more dreams, more fears, more shivers were my only only escape. I brought my knees to my chest, and cried.

There I was, near dawn, skeleton thick, bleary eyed, filled with black, homesick visions of shadows around me, spied under the reach of the mad sleep bed dorm Hogwarts dark tincan morning wake.

My self-imposed exile was finally broken after my Classics class. I had snuck into the dining hall, just before the class. The room was empty, all of the students were off in the classes that had just started. A selection of breads, muffins and croissants were left out from breakfast, and were laid out on a long table. They were tough and stale; I touched a handful, trying to discern which was the softest. I chose a bran muffin, stuck it into my bag, next to Hemingway, and headed to_ Classics_. Professor Quirrel, partway through the lecture, shot me a look as I entered fifteen minutes late. With my head down, I took one of the seats closest to the door. I put my bag onto the desk, and broke off crumbs from the muffin, eating my breakfast inconspicuously.

If I'd turned around, I would have noticed who was absent, but I was too afraid of who could be sitting there. They all took _Classics_, the study group. They were behind me, probably staring at the back of my head, wondering what was wrong with that girl. I was too afraid to face their gaze. So, I kept my head down, and nibbled on the pieces of my stale bran muffin.

Class ended. I left through the door, holding my bag against my chest. My plan was to head back to Gryffindor. I did not have another class until the afternoon. I would disappear until then. Hide. But, my plan was interrupted, by the tall boy who stood in the hallway waiting for me, Terry Boot, towering with his arms crossed.

"Hermione," he said, in a stern voice. "What's wrong?"

I turned my body, and started to walk in the opposite direction. "Nothing's wrong." I muttered under my breath. Beneath my arms, I held tightly onto my bag.

Terry caught up with me easily with his long strides. "Hermione, what's wrong?" he repeated, his voice softer, more delicate.

"Nothing." I said, my tone was venomous, the desperation obvious.

"Hermione, something's wrong. Don't try to hide it."  
>"Nothing's wrong."<p>

"Bullshit!" he called at me.

Deja vu.

Reassuringly, Terry put his hand my shoulder. "Hermione, we made a deal. I get to ramble on about my personal problems, in exchange for you telling me what's wrong. You're not allowed to back out of it."

"Terry..." I started to say, but the words escaped me. I only had feelings, not words.

"Hermione, I've been worried about you. We've all been worried about you. You've been avoiding us; it's been plain for us to see."

"Look, I don't want to talk right now. Please, just leave me alone Terry." I felt trapped. I pushed his hand off of my shoulder, and started to walk away briskly. My arms started to shake; panic built. I needed to escape. I needed to run away.

But, Terry did not let me escape. He kept up with my pace. Stubbornly, he would not let me disappear The tall, towering boy, would not let it go. "Hermione. I know you don't want to talk. That's alright. We don't need to talk. But, you don't need to run from me. We're friends. I think we're friends. We're friends right?"

I stopped in place, the weight started to push my emotions forward onto my face. I was losing control. My arms shook violently. With a croak, and a broken syllable, "yes," crawled out of my throat.

"Hermione," he spoke reassuringly. Terry brought me into a hug. His long arms wrapped around my shoulders.

There, in Terry's arms, I lost myself. A complete wreck of a person, the emotions flowed out in a torrent. The feelings I'd been avoiding came rushing forward. They combined indiscriminately, becoming a simple weep. I cried, and cried out. I was his friend; he was mine. It's what I wanted. It's what I needed to hold onto. But, in the moment, it all felt so fleeting. Like there was no connection. There was nothing at all. We were stuck in a series of inconsequential moments; anything following from anything; the fucking rule of magic. And, we were trapped merely watching as the brief time fell away from us. A short lie before death ended the false continuity. We were nothing. There were no friends, no people, no us, no me, only moments flowing by chance. It was all meaningless.

I'd tried to help. I tried Ron and Harry, I did. Please. You need to believe me. Never, wherever I was, did I give up. But it meant nothing now. It did no good. I'd let it all ferment into this sick, twisting, broken down, miring piece of loose, well intentioned waste. What was I? What had I done? What could be done? It was all so far away. Some distant speck on the horizon, barely resembling its old self, back when it was so close, and it felt so real.

And yet, and yet, there was Terry. This towering boy before me, holding me in his arms. Surely, this was real too. And he was not alone. There was Nott and there was Hannah. It was a net, over the innocuous table in the library, holding all of us close. And despite my tears, as Terry held me, there was some hope. A little glimmer before my face; the brightest it'd been in a week; the tears ran down my cheeks.

I stayed silent. My control gradually returned. Terry started to speak. "Hermione, you can't do this to yourself. You can't continue to hide from us. Look, I know something's wrong, and you're not okay, but how are we supposed to help you, if you won't let us? We're your friends Hermione. We're here for you. We want to be here for you. You need to let us in. It's been affecting all of us. I've been," Terry paused for a moment. "I've been really worried. And, I'm not just saying that. You know how I can worry. You witnessed it firsthand before the Halloween Ball." There was an earnesty in his voice. The fear I heard, when the anxiety over Ernie and his sexuality was high. Those moments when the towering boy felt so small.

He continued. "Hannah's been quiet. She does not like to share much about herself. But, I can see through her silence. She's worried too. Nott's also been quiet, but in a different way. He's been removing himself. I'm afraid he may be rescinding back into his old self. I think he may feel responsible for this. Maybe it was something he said?"

My chest ached, a sharp burn crawled up my neck. The words cut into me. I felt like the spiral was continuing. No matter my intention, my actions pushed me further away. They ruined those I cared about. Why was I wrong? Why did I hurt those around me? I chewed on words, hoping to translate my feelings. "That idiot." I huffed out of my lungs, sounding closer to a long weep. "He's done nothing wrong. He's..." But I could not continue. My control was waning once more. The lower lip of my mouth convulsed.

"I'm sure he hasn't," Terry assured. "But, maybe he needs to hear that from you. We need you back. The study group doesn't work without you. We need you."

Running away solved nothing. The people around me were still hurt. And, to be honest, I missed them. I needed them too. I was not alright; things were not okay. Seeing them was not going to fix things. But, maybe it could help. Maybe, I could start to feel right again. Maybe.

"Okay." I replied.

"Oh Hermione," Terry said, bringing me back into a hug. The relief was evident on his voice. "I'm so glad to hear that. Do you mind if we head to the library now?"

"No. We can go."

"Just," I continued. "Don't ask me about it, okay? I don't want to talk. Not about that." I was still filled with feelings. I had no use for words. I was not ready to speak about it yet.

Terry gave me a reassuring smile. "Of course Hermione. On your own terms. If you do feel like talking about it though, maybe sometime in the future, don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here for you. For a real talk, when you need to figure some things out. We made that deal. I don't plan on backing out of it."

"Thanks Terry."

We headed towards the library together. Terry broke through the crowd. I walked behind him silently. My gaze drifted downwards, following his feet as he moved. The air felt thick to pass through.. My fear kept holding me back. I bit the bottom of my lips. Doing that things which cowards are wont to do: face their fears.

The library was scarce. Most students had moved onto their next class. Pince stood behind the counter, with her usual scowl. I tried to smile at her, but my muscles convulsed, and I turned my head back down towards the ground. Terry passed by the stacks before me. I stayed a foot behind, not ready yet to move forward on my own account.

Nott and Hannah sat around the table. Hannah's books lined the surface. Nott leaned back into his chair, staring at the ceiling. Neither of them must have been in _Classics_. Did they help plan Terry's intervention? Had they trapped me in their net?

Hannah sat in her usual chair; her short red hair was vibrant under the light. The three rings climbed her left ear. A long yellow skirt lined her legs, and a light grey blouse draped from her shoulders. Her look was refined, as usual. She was able to keep such good control of herself, while I was a mess. She lifted her head from a book, and smiled at me.

"Hermione! It's great to see you." She said.

"It's good to see you too." I replied.

I took my seat. The boy with black hair, across from me, leaned back into his chair. He wore tight black pants and an XX t-shirt. His leather jacket hung off the chair. A punk rock look, for the punk rock boy. But, he no longer stared at the ceiling. His gaze followed me intently. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Just as Terry promised, there was no questions. Hannah continued to read her book. Terry looked through his Ancient runes text book. I looked over the notes from _Classics_. I had not payed much attention in the class. Quirrel's comments were already gone from my mind. There was a deep normalcy about the whole affair. A normal day for the study group. We were like we'd been throughout the year. A bunch of kids who happened to study together. And yet, we were so much more. Nott sat silently, leaning back into his chair, staring at me. And, I felt warm in his gaze. I had missed my place, at the table, with the study group, across from Nott.

"Hey Hermione," Hannah said.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you would be willing to share your notes for _Classics_. I missed the class today." she spoke innocently, as if her absence had merely been an accident. Still, this was a study group, we were supposed to help each other.

We were supposed to help each other.

Before I could respond, Terry added: "yeah, I'm in the same boat." He spoke with a smile.

I laughed. The first time I laughed in a week. "Alright," I said. "But, you two should really try harder to go to your classes. _Classics _is an honours course. It requires more dedication and work than regular level courses. If you can't do something as simple as attend, then maybe you should consider taking another course.

Terry burst into laughter, a large booming noise. I sat slyly, with a smile. In the moment, there, with the study group, if only for a second, I forgot about all my fears and anxieties. A simple pleasant note played on a string. I was at home around the table. More than I'd been in the Girl's dorm, hiding under the covers. There was a proximity here. They were close to me, these three students from three different houses.

I placed my notes from _Classics_ flat on the table, and went over the lecture with the three of them. Hannah and Terry huddled close to me, closely watching the notes I spoke of. Nott sat forward in his chair, but he stared downwards at a note book of his own he wrote small scribbles in.

Time passed. Terry and Hannah needed to leave for class. They stood up with a wave, and a promise to return later. Nott had sat back into his chair, leaning on the back legs, staring at the ceiling. Now, there was only Nott and I around the table, sitting across from one another.

The library around us was empty, except for four kids who walked through the stacks. I'd seen them a week before, the last time I'd been in the library. There were three girls, and one boy. They had reminded me of the times I spent with Harry and Ron in the library. But, now, they reminded me of something different. I'd only noticed a HufflePuff pin on one of the girls a week ago, but, now, the boy also wore one. The girl with the long black pony-tail wore a Slytherin pin, and the other girl had a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around her neck. They were quite unlike Ron, Harry and I, and what I called my favourite time in Hogwarts. They were much closer to another time, another kind of place, and another favourite time at Hogwarts.

I stared at Nott. His focus was turned upwards, towards the ceiling. He was feeling the magical aura of the room. It was the first time, since he told me about it, I was able to watch him in the library.

"Hey Nott," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling the magical aura of the room?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"What do you use as your focal point? What's your red bird, your Ophelia, when you're in here?"

He smiled, and sat forward in his chair. "I usually use the table."

"The table? Why the table?" I asked.

"It's a good access point. A lot of magic radiates around it. The table's not only connected to the books around it, but to the students around it too."

"And you want to be able to feel both?"

"Sure. You want an example?"

"I'd love one."

"Here." He placed his hand, palm up on the middle of the table. "Place your hand next to mine."

"Like this?" I asked, placing my hand close to his. Our arms both extended across the table.

"Perfect. Now, focus on your hand, feel the muscles, the bones, the blood flowing through your veins, and the magic around it. When you feel like you have a grasp on all of that, pull all those feelings downwards, till they touch the surface of the table, then slowly, pull the table upwards, until its magic covers all of those feelings you held onto."

I listened to Nott's instructions intently, but, to be honest, I could not focus for a second on my hand. The boy with black hair stayed in my mind, and what Terry had said earlier. "Nott," I spoke, my voice fragile.

"Yeah?"

"Terry said you were feeling responsible for what I've been going through. Is that true"

He closed his hand, and stared towards the ground, in silence. I did not move. My hand still extended next to his. "I just. I," he tried to speak. "I heard about Seamus, and some of the kids from Ravenclaw told Terry you've had a falling out with Harry and Ron. And, I don't know, I've felt like I played a part in it, you know? If I hadn't been with you at the Ball, Harry wouldn't have tried to jump me, and this whole mess would have been avoided." He breathed deeply; his hand rested still.

"Nott, that's ridiculous!" I spoke, strength returned to my voice. "You did not ruin anything! My falling our with Harry and Ron was overdue. We'd been growing apart for a while. I'm happy you were with me at the Ball. It was the most fun I've had all year. I don't even want to imagine if you weren't there with me."

"Really?" he said, uncertainty evident in his voice.

"Nott..." I spoke, yearning in my voice. If only I could make him understand. All I had were feelings, not words.

Although I did not feel any magical auras, in that moment, I felt a part of something. A feeling which, for a brief time, true or not, I felt like things could be okay, I could feel right again. A fleeting epiphany, a short lie that played in my mind. But there was something real about the lie. The lie felt more real than anything else I'd experienced. I could look past the rule of magic. I could look past those thoughts which held me back. I could do, as cowards do: try.

And I placed my hand in Theodore Nott's. The pulse of his veins, the beats of his heart, within my grasp. He tightened his fingers around mine. And I felt alright.

...

Part 3: Hermione's Story End

...

Author's Notes:

Hermione's story comes to an end. What did you think? Did you like it?

It was a great pleasure to write Hermione. I feel as though she is this great enigma of paradoxes. She's so stubborn, yet unsure of herself. While I enjoyed writing her, she's was the most difficult to capture in words. I hope I did her justice.

I've been very busy the last couple of weeks, and I apologize for the delay in updates. I should be able to update more frequently, if something does not come up.

Thanks for all the nice reviews! I hope you'll find this chapter a little less sad.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	16. Unconventional Punk Rock

Part 4: Theodore's Story

Chapter 16: Unconventional Punk Rock

The first sensation felt like a static shock. A sudden burn on the tip of the wand. The shallow confidence on the surface. Followed by a great emptiness. A chasm surrounding the senses. Gravity pulled down, into the dark void: fear, loneliness, doubt. The meaningless of the moment; a fleeting anxiety of the future. In the distance, small dots, like stars, shone their light. But, they were dim in the dark. They were too far, too weak. An uncrossable distance. I could only stand, on the edge, pulled into the veil, watching as the dots slowly moved. In a dance I could not understand. In a dance I could never do.

That was how I interpreted it. My wand touched the door of the room. A solitary place at the end of the hall I called the Cloister. It was my place to be alone. It was my place to be myself. I wore my Cloud Nothings t-shirt, my tight black pants with holes in the knees, my leather jacket, and my big black boots. I held my wand firm, standing solemn in front of the door.

In the basement of Hogwarts, there was a labyrinth of unused or ignored rooms. Some were large concrete halls with mold in the walls and high ceilings. Others were small claustrophobic closets empty or with old forgotten boxes. Slytherin felt at home with the company. The windowless forgotten house amongst a sea of mold and grime. The other three houses were located in towers, with great views over the land. Slytherin had its labyrinth, and the courtyard by its door.

I found the Cloister soon after the beginning of third year. Crabbe and Goyle pleaded for me to give them the answers to our Ancient Runes homework. I ignored them. They did not appreciate my attitude. In the dorm room, they grabbed me from the collar and held me against the wall. I felt like spitting in their faces, but instead I froze, too afraid to move. Blaise was able to talk them down. Told them it was not worth it. Better to forget it. They dropped me in a huff. 'Fuck off Nott,' Crabbe threatened, so I obliged. I left the house, and looked for a place to be alone. At the end of a long hallway, deep in the basement, I found the Cloister. I was filled with shame: shame at letting them treat me the way they did. I wished I was stronger. I wished I could face them. I wished I could face my fears, instead of always running away. I sat in the corner, in the dark, and cried.

The Cloister became my sanctuary. The place I'd visit when I wanted to be alone; free from the walls Slytherin. It was an old closet, only a couple of feet across. The light fixture burnt a harsh orange, and flickered every couple of minutes. It had not be tended to in years; the degradation was obvious. The room's purpose had been lost over the years. It only filled up space. A damp room with a cold concrete floor. Forgotten in the labyrinth of rooms outside Slytherin. Still, I liked its character. It felt like home.

When I began to read magical auras, it became my case study. Everyday, before I entered the room, I touched my wand to the door, and felt the aura. My hope was to feel change. Prove I could notice a difference in the aura. It felt like a fever dream. I'd been reading auras for two years, but I felt no change. Each time I tried to read the aura, it played out like before. It weighed heavy on my heart. Made me wonder if it could ever change.

There were three items in the room. With each placement, I thought something would happen. There would be a difference. But, each time, it stayed the same. An old Slytherin chair, a throw rug, and, recently, a painting, by Hannah Abbot, were all in the room. When I hung up the painting, I thought I'd feel a change. I really did. Surely this would be enough! But, it was not. My heart sank.

I found the old Slytherin chair in a stack of worn down chairs. They were arranged roughly. A number were thrown awkwardly on top of each other. Most of them had some damage: a broken leg, or a torn seat. They were in an otherwise empty room, pushed to the side, down the hall from the Cloister. The discarded remnants of days long gone. I sifted through a number of them, until I found the one which felt right. It was wooden with engravings climbing the body. The usual Slytherin imagery was present: snakes, torches, and stairwells. But, at the top, a line of birds sat along a branch. Tall feathers lined their heads; the punk rock birds above the sunken house. I brought the chair into the room. But, I did not feel a change in the magical aura.

The throw rug was an act of momentary brashness. In fifth year, I had a Divinity class in the East Tower. The class was round and lined with windows. We sat around small round tables, sitting in round chairs, with round tea cups and round saucers. Leaning against the wall, I noticed a rolled up throw rug. It was square. Large maroon triangles bordered a rusty red back. For weeks, I sat in class with the rug in the corner of my eye. Something frustrated me about it. It felt wasted in the classroom. It needed to be unravelled, appreciated. One day after class, when everyone had left, in a flash, I became brazen, tucked the rug under my arm, and climbed the staircase down into the basement. My theft went largely unnoticed. The couple of students I passed thought nothing of it. People do not usually think someone walking with a rug stole it. I'm not sure if anyone has really noticed its absence. It might have still been in that classroom, if I had not taken it with me. A solemn lonely rug disregarded on the side. I placed the rug in the Cloister, over top of the cold concrete. But, I did not feel a change in the magical aura.

Hannah's painting was new. She'd given it to me days before. I was sitting alone in the library, leaning backwards, staring towards the ceilings.

"Hey Nott," she greeted.

"Hey." I spoke, turning my head downwards. She had a frame in her arms, with a white cloth draped over top.

"I want you to have this." She said, slyly.

"Really?" I leaned forward. The front legs of my chair touched the ground. She handed me the painting. I took off the cloth, and looked at it for the first time. "Hannah, I can't accept this." I spoke, dumbfounded.

"Yes you can. Please Nott. I'd really appreciate if you took it. Think of it as a thank you."

"A thank you for what?"

"For the advice you gave me, that night."

And she walked away. Her short red hair glowed in the light. I looked at the painting once more. It felt right to put it up in the Cloister, where the events took place. Where we spoke, late at night, about her fears, and dreams. The night she cut her hair. I had dreams about it, playing back in my mind, for weeks.

Hannah's painting rested just to the right above the chair. It was a about three feet by three feet. A simple black frame lined the canvas. It was a painting of a blue and red figure stretched over a yellow background. Her back arched; she was painted with large rough strokes. It was emotional, jarring, honest, confessional. The body grew from the blue of the bottom towards the fierce red top. A swirl encapsulated her stomach; a whirlpool rushes around her shape. The breasts were cut above the struggle, while between her legs was defined along it. I thought it was amazing. When I first hung it in the room, I sat against the opposite wall on the carpet, and admired it. There was Hannah's piece. I did not know why she felt like she needed to give it to me. I needed no thanks. It was beautiful. It drew one's eyes to it. I really thought, if anything, this would make a difference. But, I did not feel a change in the magical aura.

I dropped my wand to my side. The aura felt like it always did. I opened the door to the Cloister.

I sat down in the chair for a moment to collect my thoughts. Throughout the last couple of years, I spent a large amount of my time in the room, often reading a book or practising reading auras. My visits had become gradually shorter, especially in the past couple of months since the beginning of sixth year. It became a brief interlude in my day to calm myself down, but little else. I spent more time in the library. Sometimes the whole study group would be present; sometimes I would sit alone with the books. Hermione was generally there. She sat across from me, with her delicate features and piercing gaze.

The room was no longer my only home on campus.

I only wished I'd feel a change. That there would be something new. It drove me, but also frustrated me. I thought what I did would be enough. I thought I did enough. But, each time I returned, and pressed my wand against the door, I felt the same. The same feeling passed through me: the initial shock, the emptiness, the distant lights. I knew it well. And how I hated it. I wanted something else. I wanted it to turn into something new.

I left the room after a minute, and headed towards the library.

The library was busier than usual. It was late November. Exams were going to begin soon. Students crammed themselves between the shelves, hoping they could focus amongst the books. I liked the library when it was quieter. I could think clearer then. The study group could also talk without worry of disturbing others. I walked by Pince who wore her normal scowl. She never seemed to smile. I wondered if she even liked the library. I doubted it sometimes.

Hermione, Hannah, and Terry all sat around the study group's table. Terry and Hannah sat across from each other. Hannah wrote notes on a clipboard she had rested on her lap. Hermione was in her usual spot, across from my empty seat. Her head was centred in her book; a pen rested in anticipation in her right had, begging to write something down. Terry looked bored. He twiddled his thumbs.

Terry, obviously looking for a distraction, was the first to notice me. "Nott!" he called at my approach.

Terry was a tall and lanky. He towered over all the other students. Even sitting down, his height was apparent. Otherwise Terry looked average: no glasses, a leather bag draped on his chair, a scruffy dress shirt under a long black cardigan, and blue jeans. Despite his average appearance, there was something special about the way Terry carried himself. His presence was comforting. A confident obelisk towards the sky. It was personable. It was also a lie.

Although I'd known Terry for years, we only really met during the end of fifth year, when I tried to be more social with the other kids from Slytherin. I attended a number of parties, and we talked briefly. There was something magnetic to Terry at those sorts of social events. He was often surrounded by a small crowd of Ravenclaws, hanging off his every word: guys like that asshole Anthony, and Kevin. I never liked them. But you could not dislike Terry. He seemed so cool, so calm, so collected. It felt like he not only towered over his peers physically, but in maturity as well.

This picture of Terry broke apart when I found out he was gay. I'm not sure why he decided to come out to the study group, before his friends in Ravenclaw. Hermione and Hannah knew, or, at least, they knew more than I did. It was an event I was largely left out in the dark on. Which I did not mind. I was used to being excluded. The parts I was exposed to were illuminating to the person below Terry's endless charm. A boy scared of himself. It felt humbling. It turned out Terry was human just like the rest of us.

"Hey Terry," I responded, taking my usual seat. I dropped my black backpack on the table. Adjusting myself, I draped my leather jacket over the back of my chair, and leaned back. The front legs lifted off the ground.

Terry leaned forward in his seat. "Now that we're all here, I wanted to propose something." Hermione and Hannah looked up from their work. Terry had our attention. "Exams are soon, and I was thinking that we should do something before then. Something as the study group. Like we did at the Halloween Ball, except, this time, we don't split up. We stick together through the whole thing."

"You have something particular in mind?" Hannah asked, leaning her elbow on the table.

Hannah wore a dark green shirt under her spiked high cut jean jacket. The stud in her nose was black, matching the piercings climbing her left ear. Her hair was short and a vibrant red. She'd trimmed it in the past couple of weeks to keep it at the length she'd cut it on that night.

I shot Hannah a glance, but quickly turned away. I was uncomfortable in her gaze. An unsettling confusion filled me in those moments. I did not know how to feel. I did not know how to act. I did not know anything, truly.

Hannah filled me with paradoxical emotions. I was attracted to her. Her features, legs and arms, were long and skinny. She had the body of a model. But, more than that, it was her confidence which attracted me. She was smart, and cool, and unafraid of others, and, and, and punk rock. The only other really punk rock kid in the school. In a sense, she'd always been like that, but her transformation the past couple of months solidified it.

And yet! And yet how much a lie all of that was! My attraction was based on this fantasy I had of the girl from HufflePuff. It was not based in reality. That night she came to me, seeking advice, help, I learned how much I was a part of the problem. I was no better than those boys who appropriated her. I was no better than Cedric. And so, paradoxically, my attraction to her was what pulled me away. I could not connect to her. I could not fix this fucked up insipid aggregate punk rock fantasy.

Initially, after that night, I wanted to change. I wanted to change for her. But it was invasive. I knew I could not forget those thoughts. I'd try to. I would. But it would do no good. The whole affair built a perturbed fluster of emotions. Each glance I shared with Hannah, it became complicated. If only it could be different. If only I could turn into something, something different, and fix it.

Hannah's painting became my symbol for the flurry filled with her. The shape, swirling in the middle between the rough blue and red colours. A body conflicted. Unexpectedly, the painting actually helped to diffuse the situation a little. It was a clear exchange: I'd helped her, and she gave me something in return. It was a thank-you fitted into her personal expression. The lingering feelings could be resolved by the piece of art. We did not owe each other anything. All we could do, is try to be ourselves, and see where it took us.

"I did actually," Terry responded to Hannah's question. "There's a party near Slytherin tomorrow night. To my knowledge, the Slytherin Quidditch team wants to celebrate their successful season, so they're going big. A lot of loud music and alcohol. They're having it in one of the big empty rooms in the basement, to not get caught. Right Nott?"

"Yeah." I said, turning my attention towards him. "It's all anyone's talking about in Slytherin." I leaned back into my chair.

"Since it'll be so big, we'll be able to keep mostly to ourselves. It's a good opportunity for us to do something social, as the group before exams, while still being able to keep it at our own pace. We can just try it out too. If the party's a bust, we'll just head out and try again another night." Terry wore one of his reassuring smiles, mostly hoping to calm any anxieties shared between Hermione and I. We were the ones who did not like parties.

"I don't know," Hermione commented. She ran her fingers through her curly hair. "Me, attending a Slytherin party? I don't think that's a good idea. Maybe I'll sit this one out."

Tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin were high. Since the Halloween Ball, there's been three fights between students from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Seamus was attacked by a few fifth years, a small brawl erupted in a fourth year class, and there was a minor scuffle between Crabbe and Cormac McLaggen after a Quidditch game. Each conflict intensified the conflict instead of diffusing it. Groups of Slytherins and Gryffindors prowled the halls at night, looking for an excuse. The situation felt close to escalating. And, strangely, I felt a part of it. The strife between the two houses began when I spoke to Draco on my way back to Slytherin from the Halloween Ball. If I'd told no one about what Harry did, none of it would have happened. I was involved, even if I did not want to.

It felt a little absurd to think of what happened: Harry attacking me in front of Hermione. I first met Harry after we were both sorted into Slytherin. He was a small kid with round glasses. He had a timid temperament, and lacked confidence. The other students in Slytherin thought of him as weak, and, unlike me, Harry was unable to hide in the shadows. He was bullied. I remember hearing him sob, after dark, in the bed next to mine. The situation ended when Draco pushed Harry into a wall. Draco insisted it was a light nudge, but Harry suffered a concussion and needed stitches in the back of his head. Harry transferred to Gryffindor after that; he'd been a Slytherin for less than a month.

I never really spent time with Harry after he left Slytherin. He spent all of his time with Hermione and Ron, and rarely socialized with others. When he joined the Quidditch team, he became more social, but I never attended Quidditch social events. I never attended any social events. It felt strange, to think of Harry attacking me. The timid weeping boy in the bed next to mine, grew into someone willing to treat another the same way.

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione, you'd be fine. Plus, we can't go without you; how is the study group supposed to attend a social event together, if we're missing someone?" Terry asked in an exaggerated tone. Hermione was unconvinced by Terry's words. She turned her head downwards, silent, unwilling to disagree, but unwilling to respond.

Hannah jumped in, trying to assure Hermione. "How about, we all go together, and if you're uncomfortable at all Hermione, we'll just leave? There's no reason we'd stay if you felt threatened. But, it might be fun to try right?" We'd been careful around Hermione the past three weeks. She was still fragile from the Halloween Ball, and the week she spent alone. We were afraid she'd rescind back into that, unless we were delicate.

"I guess," she spoke softly.

Hermione's brown curls ran down to her shoulders. She wore a white button up shirt, and a tan skirt. It was a simple attire: proper without being over dressed for class. The past month she'd carried herself differently. At the beginning of the year, she was filled with confidence. After the Ball, she was filled with a crippling humbleness; the certainty of her actions dissipated into the past.

We spent a lot of time together, across from each other at the table. Her head was always in books; I kept mine staring at the ceiling. We rarely talked, or debated about school or classes. We enjoyed a comfortable silence. I did not feel like I needed to talk, or to fill the space. Hermione sat quiescent.

I felt... I felt...

"Don't forget," Terry interjected, "we'll have Nott with us. No one's going to give him any shit if he brings along a Gryffindor. In people's minds, he's one of the main reasons for the bad blood between your houses. They'll expect there's a reason he's hanging out with a Gryffindor. It's also Draco's party; no one's going to mess with his second hand man."

"I guess so," Hermione spoke, staring at me. Her piercing gaze made me conscious of myself. The side of her mouth formed a smile, and I breathed calmly.

"Yeah," I agreed. I'm not sure what I was agreeing to, but the words crawled out of my mouth before I'd given much thought. It was an automatic reaction; the natural reflex given to me by my subconscious.

"Great!" Terry exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Then we're agreed: we'll go to the party at Slytherin as the study group?"

"Sure," Hannah spoke.

"Yeah," I added.

Hermione nodded her head.

"I guess we can meet here, and then head down." Terry suggested.

"The library will be closed by then," I corrected.

"Why don't we meet at the door then?" Hannah amended.

"Sounds good," Terry said. "Nott, find out from Draco where the party is, and we'll head down together."

"Alright. I can do that."

"Cool."

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the library. Around dinner time, Hermione and I were the only ones left of the study group. She was consumed by her Arithmancy book, and I was reading a one of Virgil's pastorals for Classics, leaning back into my chair. Hannah had left to grab dinner early with Ernie. Terry muttered something about heading back to Ravenclaw. I did not hear why. The library was dim. The covered windows sucked the light out of the room. I needed to squint my eyes to read. The room was invasively quiet, an uncomfortable, unsettling blankness.

I stared at Hermione. She looked up at me. Our eyes caught each others' for a moment.

"Hey," I spoke, breaking the silence, innocently.

"Hey," she replied. She turned away, ending the eye contact. We sat, awkward, for a moment. "You want to grab some food?" she asked.

I tilted my head. She'd never asked anything like that before. We never did anything together outside the library; at least, we never did anything like that since the day after the Halloween Ball. She must have been growing more comfortable. I smiled at her. "Sure."

I threw my black backpack onto the table, and stuffed my book in. Hermione's actions were more calculated. She arranged her Arithmancy books into order, before filing them properly into her bag. I kicked back my chair, grabbed my leather jacket, lunged my back pack bag around my shoulder, and brushed my fingers through my hair. Hermione subtly motioned her head towards the door, and we left the library.

In the halls, we walked side by side. The hallway was mostly empty. Dinner time had already begun. Most students were eating. We walked silently. I stared forward, stealing a glance at her every couple of seconds. It felt different when we were together outside of the library. We were not only members of a study group. We were friends. I never really had friends. I had walked through halls with others before. But, there was something different.

I felt... I felt...

The dining hall was nearly full by the time we arrived. Peoples' voices boasted and blustered loudly. It was in stark contrast with the lull of the library. Hermione grabbed herself a pork chop with potatoes. I grabbed mostly vegetables: steamed carrots, green beans, potatoes and sprouts, with a bowl of stew on the side. We waited a moment to decide where to sit. According to official school policy, sitting at another house's table was forbidden. The rule was rarely enforced, but, considering the recent tension between our two houses, the decision would had to be carefully made.

The Slytherin kids all sat with arched backs, hushed voices, and black and green clothes. Gryffindor had more vibrancy. The students spoke with exaggerated motions. Their clothes were largely light colours: white, crimson, and gold. Although I would have felt more comfortable at the Slytherin table, one of the ends of the Gryffindor table was largely empty. We could sit mostly alone. I motioned to Hermione that we take that place. She shrugged and agreed.

Between bites, Hermione asked "So what do you think of this party?"

"It could be fun. I'm not a big fan of Slytherin parties. The ones I attended back in fifth year were no fun. But, if we go as the study group, I think it could be fun."

She focused on her food for a moment, before responding: "I guess. I'm just a little on edge. I never really went to parties beforehand. And, we all know how well the Halloween Ball played out, even with the study group."

"Sure," I agreed, "but that's completely different. This is not a school organized event. There will only be people who Draco wants to be there. There won't be any Gryffindors to cause a commotion."

"Yes there will," Hermione spoke, between bites. "I'll be there."

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. I meant Gryffindors who would cause commotion, like the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"I'm sure some of them won't like me being there either way," she admitted.

"Probably, but fuck them," I added.

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. Notice all of the kids at the table staring daggers at me?" Since we'd sat down, a number of the Gryffindor kids had turned their attention to the Slytherin Hermione was eating with. I was a black clothed punk rock blight on their bright and vibrant table.

"Yeah," she acknowledged.

"Fuck them." I spoke matter of fact, and I turned my attention back to my vegetables.

"Simple as that?" she spoke, with a chuckle.

"Simple as that."

A smile grew on her lips. Amused by the punk rock boy and his punk rock attitude. She prodded her pork chop with her fork. She's only had a bite or two. Her appetite was small. There were days in the library she did not leave for dinner. But, today, she went with me, her punk rock boy and his punk rock attitude.

"I've been practising those tips you showed me." She mentioned in a hush voice.

"Yeah?"

"It's been fun. I'm not very good at it. It's always fleeting. The moment I feel like I'm about to touch it, when I feel like I'm about to feel what's below the surface, it fades past my grasp. But, it's nice. I've never really tried magic like it before."

"I understand. It's tough stuff. It took months before I was able to get a good read on something. Magical auras are elusive. I still feel like I barely catch the details. I'm only feeling the broad strokes, not the particulars."

"Thanks for helping me out though. It's been a while since I've been challenged. It's been nice."

"My pleasure."

She smiled. We continued to eat in silence.

After dinner, Hermione and I parted ways. I headed down into the basement, and returned to Slytherin. The common room was bustling with students re-energized by their meal. I headed to sixth year dorm. I sat on my bed, alone, and listened to my stereo. Siouxie and the Banshees blared; the melancholy of Juju beat around me.

I felt, briefly, the aura around my bed. It was a thin film vibrating slightly. Dozens of kids had slept on the bed. There was a little marking of each: a notch in the web of the bed. The details were too small to notice each one, but I could feel their presence. I could feel that they were there. If I had more practice, maybe after I studied it at University, I'd be able to pick them all out. Still, I wondered what my mark would be. I'd be another small notch at the end of the year, not just on the bed, but in the memory of everyone I knew. In the past couple of years, I had little affect on those around me. I was a just a phantom around the halls. But, maybe in sixth year, with help from the study group, I would make a real difference. I'd actually mean something to someone. Although, perhaps that was not true, and I had merely convinced myself I was a small insignificant bit. Maybe I did matter to some people. But, alone, I never felt that way. I was always a small piece distant from the dim dots around me. But, for the first time, I was starting to feel closer.

Near the end of the record, Draco walked into the Dorm. "Head Cut" clamoured from the stereo. Draco walked over to his bed, on the other side of the dorm room. He wore a white button up shirt, and tight black pants. He opened his trunk, and took out one of his suit jackets. I jumped off my bed, zipped up my leather jacket, and felt for my cigarettes in the right pocket.

"Hey," he spoke, searching his hands through his pockets.

"Hey."

We walked out of the dorm, through the common room, out the door, up the stairs, and into the courtyard. It was cold and dark outside. A cutting cruel wind dipped down around us. I shivered slightly. Draco stayed stoic. Once we left the doorway, I took a black cigarette from my pocket, put it in my mouth, and lit it with my black lighter, exhaling in one long, slow breath. Draco had difficulty lighting his cigarette. I cupped my hands around his mouth, and he lit the tip. Smoke crawled out of his mouth as he exhaled.

"How have you been?" He asked, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.

"I've been alright. You?" I replied.

"Good. I've been good." He paused for a second, and looked away briefly, collecting his thoughts. "Well, in a sense." He paused again. In a confessionary tone, he admitted "I made out with Pansy last night."

"What? Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, after Quidditch practice."

I pointed at him, for emphasis: "how many times are we going to have this conversation? I'm getting sick of it."

"I know, I know," he took a drag, " I keep saying these things: that's she's a bitch, she's evil, manipulative, a constant source of my sorrow. I know, I know. But,"

"But," I repeated in a condescending tone. I inhaled. The tip of my cigarette glowed red.

"But, there's something about her man. And, no matter how many times we agree I should stay away from her, she crawls her way back in. Blaise, Crabbe and I were passing a joint under the bleachers, and then Pansy and Millicent show up. I thought I was fine, since there was so many else with us. But, Crabbe and Blaise got into a debate about Crabbe's fight with Carmac. Blaise was calling Crabbe a thug, and Millicent started to jump in to defend Crabbe. So Pansy and I are standing together, and we started to talk. And, you know what she does to me. She's so smart, and clever, and witty, and she has that great laugh, and that fucking stare man," he paused, and took another drag, "and, like always, it was like I completely forgot about everything we've talked about, and we ended up sucking face."

"Draco," I spoke.

"I know, it was stupid."

"I'm just tired of hearing you complain about her endlessly, and then turn around and ignore everything we talked about."

"Fair enough." Draco agreed. He looked towards the sky. A couple stars poked through the clouds, but otherwise the sky was a muted dark canvas over top of us. The wind blew through us. It cut through my clothes; I shivered from the cold.

"Lets change the subject then, I saw you at dinner," Draco mentioned. "You know, between your girls, I always thought you'd go for Hannah. She's always seemed more your type: short hair, piercings, tall. A much more punk rock look. She always felt like a better fit than Granger at least."  
>I chuckled at Draco's words. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Although, Hermione has some nice features as well."<p>

"Oh yeah? Care to mention any?" Draco spoke dismissively.

"I don't know. I've never thought to list them before." I paused for a second to think. "She's bloody smart, confident, and she has a great stare actually. I'm not sure if it's like Pansy's glare, but it has this piercing quality. It gets under my skin, and, I don't know, makes me feel so self conscious. It makes me think, shit, I exist, and that's cool. You get me?"

"I think I get you," Draco said. "Still, I'm not sure if that's the choice I would have made.

"I haven't really made a choice yet. Nothing's written in stone. We were just eating together."

"Yeah, you were just eating together at Gryffindor's table. I'd think out of anyone, you'd be the one who'd want nothing to do with those assholes."

I took a drag from my cigarette, and leaned against the wall of the courtyard. The old tree stood in the middle, surrounded by the grass. It's bare branches swung in the winter wind. It looked fragile. A solitary presence barely holding onto itself. Close to being swept away from the forces around it. "It doesn't really bug me, to be honest."

"Ha!" Draco exclaimed, "such a classic Nott way to handle this. When the whole house finally has your back, and are ready to get revenge for the bullshit which happened to you, you jump ship. You always have to be a contrarian. You can't be on the side of the house, even when it's on your side." He chuckled a little, holding his cigarette tight between his fingers.

"Blame the punk rock." I said.

"Ha!" Draco laughed. "You always bring it back to punk rock. You know, I don't think you're much of a punk. I've listened to a couple of your records. The XX? They're hardly punk rock. Two people whispering into microphones over a drum beat does not count."

I exhaled; the smoke dissipated out of my mouth. "The XX are not the only band I listen to. I like a couple more traditional punk rock bands too. Plus, I think they count. It's much more about the attitude than the actual music. It's about being unconventional."

"Seems contradictory to me. If you're unconventional, then you're a part of the punk rock convention. That's what I've never got about punk rock. You're all trying to be individuals by dressing the same way."

"No, you don't understand. It's not being unconventional that's punk rock. The fashion stuff is all fashion. There's nothing meaningful about it. Malcolm McLaren just wanted to make a quick buck. It's about accepting the parts of you that are unconventional. It's about trying not to change the idiosyncrasies which make you who you are just to fit in with others. The attitude is what's important."

"Fair enough." Draco conceded.

The wind whistled between us. Draco started to walk towards the tree. I watched him for a second, before following after him. He seemed distant. I was only a few footsteps behind him, but it was like he was somewhere else. I liked to think Draco and I were close, but sometimes it did not feel that way. We used each other as a crutch. Draco needed someone to give him advice, separate from his group of friends. I needed someone to help me socialize with others. It was a mutually beneficial contract. I sometimes wondered if that was all it was.

"Hey Draco," I added, remembering earlier in the day. "I was wondering where you guys are holding the party tomorrow?"

Draco stopped walking, and turned to face me. "Why do you want to know that?" he asked, sounding confused.

"I'm thinking of going."

"Really?"

"Yeah, with the study group. We'd head there by ourselves, so I was wondering if you could let me know where it's going to be."

"Sure. It's going to be held in the green room." The green room was an old empty large hall in the basement with a high ceiling and green lights. It was a favourite place for Slytherin parties. Its back door opened on the hallway of the cloister. I often heard the music if I was there late; in fifth year, when I attended parties briefly, I would sneak out into the cloister for a moment to calm my nerves away from everyone else.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're starting to get close to this study group. First you eat with one of your girls, then you start attending parties with them. I'm starting to feel jealous. Are they going to steal our walks in the courtyard soon?" Draco joked.

"I wouldn't worry, if I were you."

"Good," Draco began, "I don't think I'd be able to find anyone else who could debate Nietzsche with me."

A gust of wind blew through us. I shivered again. "Hey man, I think I'm going to head in. That wind's starting to get me.

"No problem. I think I'll stay out here for a bit longer. I'll see you later."

I threw my cigarette butt to the ground, crushed it with my boot, and headed back to the doorway. The branches of the old tree creaked as another gust blew past. Before I entered, I turned around, to see the tip of Draco's cigarette burning; it looked like a small dot of light, dim in the dark.

...

...

...

Author's Notes:

I feel comfortable writing Nott. I began writing Harry Potter fanfiction because I did not like Harry Potter. It allowed me to write fanfiction without the burden of a fans perspective. And yet, ever since I created my characterization of Nott in my first Harry Potter story, Turn into Something, Nott has held a special place in my heart. There's something about the character which keeps bringing me back to him. I'm looking forward to writing his story.

In response to Lady Moe, it's pretty presumptuous to claim I do not proof read. I proof read all of my chapters numerous times. Yes, there are numerous obvious mistakes in my grammar, but if you've ever seriously written a long form story then you'd know that proof reading consists of many additions, deletions, and rewrites, paying attention to consistency, tone, characterization, themes, word choice, etc, as well as grammar. Silly little mistakes are the easiest mistakes to make, because you don't expect to make them. I'm not an editor. I write stories as a hobby. Meticulously combing through six thousand words to ensure perfect grammar is not something I'm interested in.

That said, you are correct in asserting that there are numerous grammatical errors which can be fixed. Here's my proposed amendment: if anyone would like to help edit the future chapters, send me a message. If no one volunteer's then you will all have to live with my poor grammar.

Thanks for all the other reviews! I always appreciate your kind words.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	17. A Slytherin Party

Chapter 17: A Slytherin Party

I sat down for a moment in the Cloister to collect my thoughts. The small room was cold and damp. I wore my tight black pants and leather jacket. In the chest pocket, I kept my flask close to my heart. My smokes and wand fit in the right pocket along my side. Down the hall, I could hear people bustle. The Slytherin party was soon. Members of the Quidditch team hastily tried to set everything up in the green room. I'd heard talk that they'd smuggled in a keg. There must have been an art to sneaking in something so brazen.

Slytherin parties were a world separate from my own. I attended a few, briefly, at the end of fifth year. It was stirred by a fit of abrasive curiosity, in which I was quite unlike myself, driven by fear and a deep seeded anxiety over whether I may die alone. Or, simply put, I was lonely, and I did not want to be anymore. The parties were fun initially. I had never drank before. Blaise strung me along, giving me drinks. I'd sit with the girls, and listen to their gossip silently. I always felt more comfortable with them. As the parties progressed, I built more courage. Every couple of minutes, I'd add a word or two in. Which inspired Blaise to give me more drinks. By the end of the night, I was a muddled mess of mixed misrepresented emotions flowing through slurred words. As time went by, I began to recognize the other Slytherins' interest in me: like watching a hamster let out of a cage. A strange animal adapting to an unfamiliar environment. It was not malicious, per-say, but, it was not personable either. I was a specimen to be observed, not befriended. I felt used. Slytherin felt like a toxic place. I could not trust anyone. For most people, they could have adapted, but not me. Instead, I panicked, and became insular. Thankfully, on the final day of fifth year, I spoke with Draco, and was let free. A red bird flying higher, and over the walls.

I sat back in my chair. The cloister was no more calming than my dorm room had been. I stared at Hannah's painting. The figure was unafraid. She admitted to the conflict inside her: the spiralling red and blue in her stomach. Yet, she did not let it stop her. It was laid out bare before me. I was like a small child faced with a reality of the world: the spiral was never going to leave. The best I could do was to be myself, and stay true to the conflicting emotions inside me: the fear of the party, the fear of facing what I ran away from, the fear of myself, who I am, and the fear of Hermione. I had hurt her, if only indirectly, I did not want to hurt her more.

I felt... I felt...

I placed my hand on my wand, and spoke a small incantation. The aura was the same as always: The first sensation felt like a static shock. A sudden burn on the tip of the wand. The shallow confidence on the surface. Followed by a great emptiness. A chasm surrounding the senses. Gravity pulled down, into the dark void: fear, lonliness, doubt. The meaningless of the moment; a fleeting anxiety of the future. In the distance, small dots, like stars, shone their light. But, they were dim in the dark.

I stood up from my seat, and headed back towards Slytherin. The hallways were empty. Curfew started soon. No one wanted to draw attention to the party. I zipped up my leather jacket, and walked slowly. By the entrance of the house, I cut right, walked up the stairs, and headed into the courtyard. The night was filled with a biting cold. Winter was dragging away the heat. I stood close to the door, and took out a cigarette. One smoke to calm my nerves. The courtyard was silent. Overcast covered the stars with dark grey strokes. The single tree stood solemn in the middle. It was silent. All I could hear was my breath. I tried to spot Ophelia: the red bird along the roof tops, but she was gone. She'd left at the turn of the seasons, when fall became winter. I was alone. Smoke crawled out of my mouth as I exhaled. My heart raced.

After a minute, I threw my butt onto the ground, and stomped it out. I headed back inside, and climbed the stairs onto the main floor of the school. The echoes of my steps followed along the hallway. My heart started to race. I tried to calm myself down. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can do this. I can.

At the entrance of the library, Hermione stood alone. She wore her green army jacket over a long white blouse and tight black pants. Her curly hair bunched around her shoulders. In her hand, she read a paper back novel; _The Beautiful and the Damned_, from what I could see. She quickly stuffed it into her canvas bag when she spotted me.

"Hey," I called over.

She stood silent for a moment. She held her arms. "Hey," she said.

"You're the only one here?" I asked.

"Yeah," she looked at her watch, "the others should be arriving soon."

"Cool." I moved next to her, leaning against the wall. "You look good," I said awkwardly.

"Thanks," she whispered, looking at the ground.

Silence.

"You doing okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she lied. She stirred in her spot. I knew it tore up her insides. A Slytherin party was an unwelcome place for a Gryffindor at the moment. Ever since the incident at the Halloween Ball, tensions ran high between the two houses. She knew she was heading into hostile territory.

Still, there was nothing for Hermione to fear. Most of the bad blood was felt between the Quidditch teams. And, she was attending the party with me. Even though I did not like to admit it, the whole conflict was centred around me. Slytherin was fighting against Gryffindor for my sake, even if I did not desire it. Nobody would start anything against a Gryffindor if they came with me. It would defeat the entire purpose. Plus, Draco would not let it happen. I was certain of it. I could trust him for that.

"Good," I tried to assure her, hoping not to dwell.

"Hey guys!" Terry greeted, walking down the hall. He wore a white dress shirt under a long black cardigan. The tall boy beamed with a wide smile across his lips. He was in his element. Terry was a social animal. I'm sure he was the most comfortable in these sorts of situations.

"Hey Terry," I greeted.

"Hey," Hermione acknowledged.

Terry nestled himself on the other side of Hermione. "You're looking cute tonight," he said to Hermione.

"Thanks," she spoke shyly.

"Where's the party being held?" Terry asked.

"The green room. It's in the basement. I'll be able to show you."

"I know where it is," Terry assured. "Although, it sure is easy to get lost down there."

"It's quite the labyrinth," I agreed.

Terry looked at his watch. "Hannah's the last to show again huh?"

"Looks like it," I said.

Terry pouted. "That girl..."

"You're just anxious to see Ernie," Hermione observed. She smiled slyly. A flash of her normal gossip self broke through the despondent cast she'd built around her recently.

Terry turned his head upwards. "I have no idea what you are talking about. The whole point of tonight is to do something as the study group. I was merely expressing my desire for us all to be together."

Hermione nodded, holding her hand to her mouth, letting out a slight snicker.

I was never privy to the details of Terry's relationship with Ernie. Terry confided with Hermione before the Halloween Ball, and Hannah, as Ernie's best friend, was involved the entire way. I could piece together hints and clues from what they said between each other: their relationship was secret. Terry used the times when we did something as the study group to be with Ernie without raising suspicion. I did not know much more. I do not think they meant to exclude me. Either they did not think I was important enough to be confided in, or the thought of letting me know never crossed their minds. I did not mind. I'd been excluded from things my entire life. It was just that, the few times I was excluded by a group over something, it was not long until I was the thing excluded from the group.

Hannah arrived a couple of minutes later. She wore a sleeveless denim shirt with the buttons done up to her neck. She wore high cut black shorts and dark stockings along her legs. Her short red hair was folded on one side, emphasizing her ear with the row of piercings climbing the lobe. She wore loosely fitted ankle high leather boots, and a silver stub in her nose. The sleeveless shirt and the high cut shorts accented her long slender limbs. It was overwhelming. She looked amazing.

"Hi," she greeted with a wave.

I stood silent, and nodded in her direction. My tongue was tied. I looked away, and noticed Hermione, who was not staring at Hannah, but, instead, at me. Our gazes met for a moment. She quickly turned her head towards the ground, and shuffled her feet.

"Hey," Ernie added, following a few feet behind Hannah. The short boy with curly hair wore a striped v-neck shirt and jeans.

"Hey Ernie," Terry said.

Terry stood from the wall, and gave Ernie a brief hug.

Hannah leaned against the wall next to me. Her shoulder was only a few centimetres from mine. "We going to head out?" she asked.

I felt like responding, but something held me back. I felt self conscious between Hannah and Hermione. I was light headed. Opposing emotions fought in the pit of my stomach.

"Yeah," Hermione said firmly. She stepped forward.

Hannah nodded in agreement. They started to head in the direction of Slytherin. Terry and Ernie, who were more concerned in each other, noticed the girls head out, and followed suite, staying a few feet behind them.

I stayed in place. I needed to sort myself out. I did not know what happened to me: between Hannah and Hermione. My head had not stop spinning; my heart raced faster than before. I needed to calm my nerves. I took out my flask, and took a sip. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can do this. I can.

I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand.

"Nott," Hermione said, standing in front of me. I did not even notice her approach. I turned to the right, and could see Terry, Ernie, and Hannah standing at the end of the hall. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lied.

"Good," she said. She reached forward and grabbed the flask from my hand. Her fingers stroked the length of my palm as the flask switched hands. She took a swig. "Lets go."

I stood up from the wall, and the two of us walked down the hall to join the others.

We walked down the halls in silence. Curfew was in effect. Terry and Ernie walked together in the back. Hermione and Hannah were close, and I stayed ahead in the front, leading the way to the green room. I stuffed my hand in the pockets of my leather jacket. Hermione handed me the flask back. I slipped it into my chest pocket. I considered offering it to Hannah, but, something felt off about the idea. The flask held a special place between me and Hermione. Adding Hannah to the mix would ruin the connection.

In the basement, subtle green lights barely lit the damp halls. After curfew, all of the lights, except the emergency lights were turned off. I would have cast a _Lumos _spell, but that would have set off one of the detector charms. We were safer not to use magic. As we got deeper into the labyrinth, we could feel a muted beat reverberating through the walls. Finally, we arrived at two large doors, with light escaping through the cracks: the green room.

The party was in full effect as we arrived. The keg was tapped. A small group crowded around it, hoping to fill their red cups. In the middle of the room, a sketch of a dance floor was forming. Most of the kids were clinging to the edges of the room. The Slytherin Quidditch team sat on old couches and chair they had carried in earlier in the night.

We followed along the wall, and found an empty place to concern ourselves in. I leaned against the wall. Hannah joined next to me. Hermione held her arms over her chest; her head staring at her feet. Terry chuckled, and looked around the room.

"We sure are a lively bunch," Terry commented.

"You picked the wrong people, if you were looking for excitement," I said.

Terry smiled. "Don't count yourself short. I'm sure we'll have some excitement tonight. It'll come."

Hannah ran her fingers through her hair. "I agree. No point in forcing it though. Better to let it come naturally." She bit her lip. I nodded my head in agreement. We continued to lounge in silence.

"You guys confident about the exams coming up?" Ernie asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah," Hermione said timidly.

"Of course we are," Terry added. "Look at the brain power here. We're probably the most prepared group of students in the entire school."

"I feel sorry for you, though," Hannah said, referring to Hermione. "You're taking every honours course right? I feel like the couple I'm in are swamping me. I can't imagine how tough it must be for you."

"It's not that bad," Hermione said. "It doesn't really feel like much more work to me." She turned her head downwards, and kicked her feet. "Plus, it wouldn't be fun if it wasn't tough. If the work was too easy, then I wouldn't need to work at it. If I didn't need to work at it, then I wouldn't need to study, and I wouldn't have a study group."

Terry walked over to her and brought her into a hug. "You're the most adorable girl I've ever met," he said slyly.

"Hey," Ernie called over, his hands on his hips. "Just because she's a girl, doesn't mean she's not off limits," he spoke firmly.

"Oops," Terry said jokingly. He let go of Hermione and walked back beside Ernie.

"Geeze Ernie," Hannah commented, "I didn't expect you'd be this possessive."

Ernie blushed slightly. "It's just, I don't know," he said, a little more unsure of himself.

"Don't worry about it," Terry said, patting Ernie on the back. "I think it's enduring. You're the most adorable boy I've ever met; there's no risk there."

I noticed Hannah and I were leaning close together. My hand was close to touching hers. The distance was small. And, yet, we were so far away from each other. I made no attempt to bridge the gap between us, like Terry and Ernie. I was stuck where I was: miles away from her. The punk rock princess in my dreams, who only lived in my dreams, and did not exist in real life. That was not Hannah; that was not Hannah at all. And I could never be so cruel to try and get close to her, only to approximate her on such unreasonable terms. I know what it meant to her, to be understood. I wished I could be that person, who could see her for what she was, but I knew I didn't. It was all a fucking mess. Between those few centimetres between our fingers, a distance grew further with each breath. Each moment we failed to be what we wanted for each other; each moment I failed her.

And, for some reason, I found myself staring at Hermione. The girl with her green army jacket.

I felt.. I felt...

I took a half breath, and rubbed my face with the palm of my hand.

"Hey guys, I'm going grab myself a drink," I said, and walked off before they had a chance to say anything back. I needed to take a breather. Something was building inside of me, and I did not understand it. I'd been alone for so long. Years were spent by myself. Now, finally in the company of others, I was overwhelmed. I could not put a word to it: I did not know what to call it. All I knew, was that it was cut deep in my stomach. A gutted feeling which climbed up my throat and chocked the back of my mouth. Why was it coming now? What had changed? I did not need this. I did not need another complication to fill in my life.

"Nott?" A voice called over to me.

On one of the couches sat Blaise Zabini. He lounged back with his arms along the top. He sat like a king. Which, here, at the Quidditch team's party, he was. Blaise was Slytherin's keeper, and he'd played a nearly perfect season. The other teams could barely get a single goal in a game. The party was as much a celebration of Blaise, as the whole team.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Blaise commented calmly.

Blaise was the one who initially convinced me to start attending parties in fifth year. Unlike the other guys on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Blaise was always calm and collected. His cool demeanour made him seem sincere, and hard to say no to. When he first approached me, I was surprised. He spoke about needing some variety at the parties. He thought I would add some much needed diversity to the group. In a sense, he was not lying. But, it was only later I discovered the true meaning behind his words. I was their dancing monkey. The focal point of their mean spirited laughs. I was paraded around, and shown to be a fool. They liquored me up, and laughed at the antics they convinced me to perform. It didn't take me long to realize my role. But, I did not stop. I never had friends before. I never even had acquaintances. I was always alone. It was my first time being close to anyone, even if it was not close at all, even if their intentions were malicious. At least they noticed me; at least they paid attention to me; at least I meant something to them.

It wasn't until the final day of fifth year I realized how much the toxic environment affected me. Thanks to Draco's words, I finally realized that being alone, being myself, may be better than being with them. Since the beginning of sixth year, I had not spoken to most of the popular kids. I didn't have anything to say. I didn't want to say anything to them. I didn't want to acknowledge them. Blaise included.

"Yeah?" I spoke, disdain plain in my voice. I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my leather jacket.

"I'm glad," he said, "I didn't think you'd ever come back to one."

"I didn't plan on," I said.

"Yeah? Then what are you doing here?"

"Here with friends."

"Hermione right?" Blaise asked.

I was taken aback. I did not expect him to know I was friends with Hermione. "Yeah, she's one of them."

"Cool. Wish I could be that bold," he looked around the room. "I hoped to bring Fay to this party, but, you know, with everything, I thought it would be better not to." He shrugged his shoulders, sounding disappointed.

"I don't think it's much of an issue."

"I hope not," he said, sounding unconvinced. "Anyways, it's good to see you man. We should hang out sometime. It's been a long time since we last talked."

"Yeah, it has, hasn't it?"

I felt a push on my back. I turned around to see Draco standing with other members of the Quidditch team. Draco wore a white dress shirt with a thin black tie. His black pants were tight around his legs, and he held a folded blazer around his forearm. Crabbe and Goyle scowled at me, and passed towards the couch. Millicent and Pansy talked between each other behind Draco's back.

"Hey man," I greeted.

"Hey Nott. I didn't expect you'd actually show up." He walked towards the couch, and tossed his blazer across one of the rests.

I smiled. "Seems to be a popular sentiment."

"What do you expect?" Draco spoke. "It's been a while since you came to one of our parties. Here, follow me," Draco said. He cut right towards the crowd around the keg. "You're going to be proud of me. Spent the whole night with Pansy so far, and we haven't made out once."

"I'm glad that's where the bar's been set."

"Hey, you have to start somewhere."

The keg was held in a small basin, next to a table covered in plastic red cups.

"Are your girls here?" Draco asked.

"Yeah."

"Cool." He cut around the table, and pulled out a cooler. He took out a small key from his right pocket, and unlocked a small pad lock. Opening the top, he revealed dozens of cans of beer resting on ice. He grabbed three, and tossed them individually at me. I caught each in turn. "Here, special present from the Quidditch team's own personal stash. One for you and each of your girls."

"Thanks."

Draco placed four more on the table, and relocked the cooler. He grabbed the four and headed back towards the couch. "I'll talk to you later man, try to stay out of trouble."

I nodded my head. I moved along the wall, back to where I left the rest of the study group. There, I found Terry talking with a number of Ravenclaw students. Ernie stood close to his side. Hannah stood a few feet away, in a conversation with Stephen and Michael from Ravenclaw. Hermione stood alone, leaning against the wall. Her arms crossed.

"Hey Nott!" Hannah called over to me.

"Hey," I said. I joined the small circle with Michael and Stephen. "You want a beer?" I asked, still holding the three Draco gave me.

"Sure," she said. With a smile, she grabbed one from between my fingers.

I looked over at Hermione. I wondered if I should give her the other one. I knew Hermione did not like drinking at parties. The fear of getting caught was a real concern for her. Considering the other factors, maybe she didn't need another source of anxiety. I breathed deeply, and turned towards Stephen and Michael. "I have one extra. One of you want it?"

"I would," Michael said reserved. I tossed him the can. "Thanks," he said. Hannah opened hers with a _schluck_. Michael and I quickly followed.

"Lame, I feel left out," Stephen frowned.

"Should have been faster," Michael spoke matter of fact.

Michael wore a tight white v-neck shirt which clung to his muscles. The shirt must have been one size too small. His body was sculpted. An unusual quality for a Ravenclaw. Stephen had his usual Morrissey quiff. He wore a loose stripped dress shirt over a white shirt, tucked into tight jeans. It had a real New Wave 80s look to it. In a sense, he was the most punk rock boy in our year, other than me. We shared that in common, even if it was only fashion.

"Yeah, Stephen, it's no one else's fault but your own," Hannah teased, agreeing with Michael.

"Sorry I didn't grab more," I began to say.

"Hey, no worries man," he interrupted. "It's cool." Hannah took an exaggerated sip of her beer. I had a gulp. "So, Hannah," Stephen began, trying to refocus the conversation back to where it was going before I arrived. "You said you've been painting?"

"A little, yeah," she said. She fiddled with the top of her can. She was shy when she talked about her painting.

"How long have you been doing it?" He asked.

"Only for about a month. I used to paint a lot in first and second year. But then, you know how it is, I just started to focus on other things. Recently though, I got back into it. It's fun."

"I'd love to see one of your works," Stephen said quickly.

Hannah looked a little surprised. "Really? I'm not very good."

"That's a lie," I jumped in. "She's lying. She's good, really good."

"Nott!" she said, giving me a light push.

"Hey, it doesn't matter if you're good or not. I'd love to see one," Stephen said.

"Alright," Hannah said pouting. "Maybe when I'm done the one I'm working on."

"Great!" Stephen smiled.

Hannah took another exaggerated sip of her beer.

"You guys are such a talented group," Stephen commented.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, Hannah paints. Terry has his figuration pieces. Hermione's top mark in the year. You're quite the group."

"Terry does figuration pieces?" Nott asked.

"Yeah," Michael spoke quietly, drinking his beer, as if only to assert his presence.

"You don't know that Nott?" Hannah asked.

"No, I've never heard him mention it."

"Really?" Stephen said, "He's the best in the year. Hell, I'd be pretty confident saying he's the best in the school. Most of us cannot craft a simple magical figure; his pieces are stories. They move, explore, take, it's quite the experience."

"Wow. Sounds amazing," I said.

Stephen nodded his head.

"Hey Terry!" Michael called.

"Yeah?" Terry said. He towered over the group surrounding him. His gaze was uninterrupted between us. "What's up?"

"Could you do a figuration piece?" Michael asked.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know..." Terry hesitated.

"Come on man," Stephen jumped in.

"Alright," Terry gave up with a shrug. He reached into his cardigan's pocket, and took out his wand. The crowd surrounding him stepped back. We moved closer to him. A crescent formed in front of him. I turned to look at Hermione; she stood still with her arms crossed at the wall. I breathed deeply.

And then, a flash. A faint light flowed from the tip of Terry's wand. Like a painter, he waved it like a brush. The light hung in the air; a bright ink on the canvas before him. The strokes formed together into the outline of a flower. Once the image was set, he tapped his wand above the top, and the light dissolved into a black molded figurine. The brightness faded, the leaves stretched into arms, and the petals folded together into a face, until it was the shape of a man. The man looked right, and then left, and then down. He brought his knees to his chest. It looked scared. Afraid that it was no longer a flower. Simply a man, plain. The figure started to shake. But, then, Terry flicked his wand around the figure. With each flick, a small dot of light floated in place. The lights hovered for a moment. Like stars held in the sky. Then, Terry tapped the figure again. The lights moved slowly toward the figure. The warm light approached its feature. The figure stopped shaking, and became surrounded with light. A blinding white flash burst from his chest, and the petals slowly unfolded from his face: revealing the burning bright sunflower beneath. A special flower once more. Finally, Terry tapped the top of figure, and it dissolved.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically. Terry gave a light bow. I had no idea Terry could do something like that. It moved me. I took a sip from my beer. "That was great Terry," I commented.

He flashed me a smile. "Thanks. I think that one still needs a bit of work."

"You're too modest Terry," Stephen said.

"Yeah, that was great," Ernie agreed.

"You guys are too easy of a crowd," Terry beamed. The crescent slowly started to fill in, and the distance was crossed between Terry and the others. I stepped back, and walked over to Hermione. Casually, I leaned against the wall, and took a sip of my beer. She fidgeted with her finger nails.

"That was impressive, right?" I said, trying to break the silence.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice a half whisper.

I finished my beer, and set it on the ground. With a sigh, I sat down, and crossed my legs. I stared at my hands for a moment. Hermione moved closer, and sat down next to me. Her shoulder was only a few inches from mine. She angled her head back, and stared at the ceiling.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. There, next to her, I had my first calm moment of the night. It was in stark contrast with the moment I stood between Hannah and Hermione. Just with Hermione, I was able to breathe deep breaths, and forget myself in the surroundings. I was there, next to her, and the rest felt irrelevant. I was not there for someone else; not for their entertainment, not for their venomous laughs. I was there to be next to her. In the simplicity of it, the clear answer, there was comfort. A brief straightness in the constant bending.

I took my flask out of my chest pocket. I unscrewed the top, and took a swig. With a flick of my wrist, I offered some to Hermione. She took it without saying anything. She brought it to her mouth, rested it on her lips, and slowly tilted it downwards. I watched intently. Strands of her curly hair rested on my shoulder.

"You want to try an exercise?" I asked.

"What?" she asked.

"Some practice reading an aura."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

I sat up in my place. "When you're in a place with so many people, it's hard to isolate an aura. There is so much overlapping layers of magic emanating from each person, that it's nearly impossible to distinguish one from another. But, the inability to perform a micro reading, allows for the possibility to do a macro reading. That is, to read everyone at once, the group, as if it were a single person."

Hermione tightened the muscles in her face. She was trying to concentrate. "Okay," she spoke. She took a swig from the flask. "I think I understand." She breathed deeply. "What should my focal point be?" She asked.

"Yourself," I said. "It's best to imagine the readings as pressure pushing on you. Like diving deep under water quickly, you have to feel the way it pushes down on you. I'd suggest starting with your hand, since it's easy to visualize." Hermione nodded her head in understanding.

I grabbed the flask out of Hermione's hand, and took a sip myself. Then, I placed it on the ground. I grabbed hold of Hermione's palm, and rubbed it with my thumb. "Okay, feel the way my thumb is pressing down on your skin. Notice the ways it makes you feel: notice the texture, notice your muscles move, notice the grating against the bone. Now, extrapolate, notice outwards, notice the pressure beyond my thumb. Notice magic pressing on you all over. Feel the subtle push pressing on your fingers, the back of you hand, on my thumb pressing your palm. Try to describe it."

"It's tough," she began. "It's large. Doesn't seem like it's coming from a single direction. It's pressing from all sides. It's afraid. Not scared, but afraid. It doesn't want to fail. It doesn't want to seem weak,or bad, or hated, or alone..." she slowly opened her eyes. "That's, that's all I could get. Sorry."

I smiled. "Don't apologize. Frankly, that's amazing. That was a great read. In these sorts of social situations, people's self-consciousness fills the room. It's really impressive that you were able to get that so quickly. You're really learning fast."

"Well, I have a great teacher," She smiled back to me.

I was still for a moment. And let myself escape into that expression.

Then, I noticed I was still holding onto her palm, and my self-consciousness quickly returned. I pulled back from her, grabbed the flask again, and took another sip. I was not above the group. I passed it back to her, and sat back on the wall.

It took me nearly a year to form that kind of a read. Hermione really was amazing. There was a reason she was top mark in our year. Still, her reading was that of a beginner. She missed some important subtleties. And she made one mistake: it was not tough. It was both soft and tough. A contradiction, sure, but feeling aura was filled with conflicting forces. There was the tough side of self-consciousness; the kind which never wants to show weakness. But, there was also the soft side of self-consciousness, the side which explicitly wants to show weakness. To expose itself to another, and let them accept you with their weakness. Social events like these was filled with both forces: they are necessary for getting close to others. The desire to show yourself in the best light, and the desire to show yourself in an honest light.

"Is this what you used to do?" Hermione asked me.

"Pardon?"

"You told me, at the Halloween Ball, that last year at the Ball you spent the night reading magical auras. When you first told me about it. Was it like this?"

"Yeah, I guess it was."

"Did you do it often?"

"Not really," I sighed. "I did it for a bit. Even when I ate in the dining hall, I'd sit reading the feeling of the room. But, then, it just made me really lonely. Noticing how important other people were to everyone; that their thoughts were consumed by others, how they felt, how close they were, how close they could be, it made me aware just how isolated I was. There was no one for me to feel that way about. I never had the chance to be close enough to be self aware around anyone. It was like I was finally told about how different I was from everyone else. I was not living life like everyone else, I was merely watching them from a distance, watching them experience what I could only imagine. That's probably why I started to attend Slytherin parties at the end of the year. I really wanted to experience those emotions, even if it was for the wrong reasons. And I stopped reading the auras of groups, because I did not want to just watch it, I wanted to live it."

Hermione placed her hand on my lap. "That sounds really tough," she said delicately.

I smiled. "Don't worry about it," I laughed a little, "I've been self-consciousness a bunch recently. And, I think it's probably for the right reasons this time."

Slowly, I moved my hand and grasped Hermione's on my lap. Our fingers knitted together. Her skin was soft. She squeezed my hand tightly. This time, I did not read an aura. I did not read anything. I simply felt close to her. I felt... I felt... right...

...and then, it all went wrong...

The doors to the hall opened. A group of five boys entered. In the front, Harry Potter strode with confidence. The rest of the group, I assumed, were members of the Quidditch team. I noticed Seamus next to Harry's right. A cut under his eye had not completely healed since he was jumped. This was bad. They stood in the doorway, looking over the room. I held my breath. They would not come to this party unless they were looking for trouble.

Hermione stood up, and let go of my hand. I tried to grab her, before she did anything further, but she walked towards the boys before I could reach her. Swearing under my breath, I stood up myself, and followed behind her. I had hoped this situation was over. That we could wait, and let it fade into memory. It seemed that, unfortunately, we would not be that lucky.

"What are you guys doing here?" Hermione asked forcefully, walking up close to them, hoping cut them off from entering further into the room.

"Hermione?" Harry said, shocked by Hermione's presence. "What are _you _doing here?"

"She was invited," Draco spoke loudly, approaching the group. The Slytherin Quidditch team was close on his heels, cutting through the crowd. "You, Potter, unfortunately were not." He said venomously.

"Draco! My friend!" Harry said with exaggerated expressions. "Not invited? But this is such a nice party you seem to be having. It'd be a shame if we weren't able to join in with the festivities. I'm offended!" Harry's words were tongue in cheek. He had a wide devilish smile across his lips.

"That was the intention. Now," he tensed his mouth, and imitated the way Harry referred to him, "my friend, if you could, please get the fuck out of here," Draco had no patience for Harry's teasing.

"Come now, chill out, we come in peace," Harry said, "We even brought beer." He directed his hand to one of the seniors with him, who I did not know their name. He held up a two six packs of tall cans.

"I don't care how you come. Get out."

Hermione approached Harry. "Harry, what are you trying to do? I think we should go. Alright? No good's going to come from this."

"But Hermione, the fun's only begun. I have no intention of leaving prematurely."

Hermione stepped back. I moved behind her. Terry's arm reached around me and grabbed her shoulder. Hannah whispered to my right: "maybe we should leave." This time, it was different from the Halloween Ball. There was not just the two of us. The study group was here together.

"Potter..." Draco groaned. His fury painted his face a light red.

"What is it Draco? Going to jump us just for trying to attend your party. I didn't realize you were such a poor host. Does everyone receive this kind of treatment?"

I pushed past Hermione, and walked up to Draco. Lightly, I grabbed his shoulder, and positioned myself between him and Harry. "Hey man, maybe we should back off."

"Back off?" he nearly yelled at me.

"Yeah. Take a step back. Have a breather. He's obviously trying to egg you on. Are you really going to go along with it?"

"Just because he's trying to do that, doesn't mean it's not also in my favour."

"Really Draco? Come on, you're better than that?"

"Better than that? Where do you get off? I'm defending our house's honour. There is nothing better than that. It's something a traitor like you would never understand."

"Hey Draco. Are you done talking with your boyfriend. I'm getting bored." Harry said. He held one of the cans of beer in his hand, and popped the top with a _Schlock_.

"That's it," Draco yelled. He pushed me aside. "You're fucking dead Potter."

Harry laughed at Draco's threat, and threw the can at Draco. Draco knocked it away, but it fizzed and sprayed as it flew in the air. A couple of the Quidditch guys standing behind Draco were hit by the spray. Enraged, they started to advance with Draco. Once Draco reached Harry, he threw a hook at Harry's face. The punch landed right on Harry's cheek. His head was thrown to the side. With his head still down, Harry rushed forward, tackling Draco on the waist, throwing them onto the ground. Harry, on top of Draco, punched him in the face. Before Harry could throw another, Blaise grabbed Harry's back, and threw him off Draco. Seamus, anxious to participate, kicked Blaise in the stomach.

From there, it turned into a straight brawl between the two teams. Having been in between the teams before it started, I found myself in the middle. For a moment, I stood dumbly, in a slight daze, watching the fight erupt around me. Then, from behind, someone kicked me. I stumbled and fell onto the floor face first. I turned around, to see Seamus standing over me. He winded up, and kicked me in the stomach. Then again. Then again. I wanted to fight back, but my body froze. I was, as I always was: a coward.

Finally, Michael and Stephen, from Ravenclaw, grabbed Seamus around the shoulders, and dragged him back. A number of the students had intervened. From the ground, I saw Terry between Draco and Harry. Both were breathing heavily. I breathed a sigh of relief that the fight stopped. My head was still spinning. My mouth tasted like iron.

"That's enough," Terry said. His voice was stern and commanding.

"Whatever," Harry spat. "We're done here anyways. Who'd want to attend a party hosted by such a psycho?" He stood up straight, and brushed his shirt. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team organized themselves around the doorway. Harry started to walk towards it, before pausing, and turning around. "Hermione, you coming?"

Hermione held her arm. "No."

"No?" Harry asked, sounding confused.

"No," she repeated.

"Okay," he said. His voice a little hurt. He turned back around, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team left the Slytherin party.

"You alright?" Hannah asked me. She stood beside me, and offered me a hand. I grabbed it, and pulled myself up.

I coughed. "Not really." I held my head. My stomach felt like I swallowed needles. The muscles along my chest were tight. With a rush of adrenaline, my heart was racing. And it felt like there was a line of rotten teeth down the back of my spine. It was awful. I did not say anything more. I walked over to Draco, and I grabbed the front of his shirt. "What the fuck was that? What was that suppose to accomplish?"

Draco swatted my hand away. "You should be thankful. That was all for you. We showed those assholes that you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. I don't understand you Nott. We have finally rallied behind you. Slytherin is fighting for you, and you're fighting against us."

"You think... you think I wanted that?"

"No. But sometimes you have to do something you don't want to do. Would you rather they just shit all over you? They came here to make fools out of us; to show how weak we are, but we fought back. They have no high ground."

"And you do? You're just as bad as they are! You were looking for a fight as much as they were."

"It was necessary. Otherwise we'd all continue playing this war of attrition. Now, the battle lines have been drawn."

"You really are a psycho Draco."

"And you're a coward Nott."

Blaise put his hand on my shoulder, but I squirmed out of his grip. I stormed out of the hall. Everything was building up. I couldn't think; I couldn't think. Fuck! I was furious. I was furious at the Quidditch team. They did it again. I was used. They had no interest in me. They only cared about the house's 'honour'. I was the convenient excuse they could latch onto: their martyr; their lamb to the slaughter; their Franz Ferdinand. I was furious at Draco. He was better than this. He understood. Why was he so blind? I couldn't believe him. It was all his fault. If he had not gotten involved, there would not have been a fight tonight, the houses would still be on good terms, and Hermione would not have been hurt.

But, most of all, I was furious at myself. I was a coward. There was no denying it. My reaction to every situation was to run away. Blaise and Crabbe bullying me? Run away to the cloister. Blaise and the girls using me at parties? Run away to punk rock. Harry attacking me at the Halloween Ball? Run away. Being called a coward by Draco? Run away.

I punched the wall. Then again. Then again. I cried out. And I hated myself. And I cried.

"Nott..." I felt two arms reach around my back. I froze in shock. Hermione held onto me. "Nott... it's okay."

I turned around, and there, standing behind me were Hermione Granger, Terry Boot, and Hannah Abbot. Hermione loosened her grip, and stepped back.

I smiled, and a rubbed my eyes. I'd forgotten something in the mess. An important fact about my life: I was no longer alone. For the first time, the first time ever, I had people who had my back. People who would chase after me if I ran away. People who cared about me. It was such a novel feeling, but it really changed things. The world looked a little brighter with stars so close.

Terry rubbed the back of his head, and laughed. "Well, that was a complete disaster. Sorry about making you all come. Maybe it would have been better not to have tried."

"Yeah, probably," Hannah agreed, shrugging her shoulders.

I stayed silent, still recuperating.

"Come on guys. I had some fun tonight," Hermione spoke up. She seemed to have a little more confidence than she did earlier in the night.

"You know, maybe we can still save the night," Terry suggested. "We don't have to give up just because the Slytherin party was a bust. We can have our own party. Just the study group," he paused, "and Ernie."

"Hey Nott," Hannah said, "didn't you take me to room around here once? You said it was your own private place. Couldn't we go there? Have maybe restart the night. Have a study group party instead of a Slytherin party?"

"Yeah, we could try that." I held my head in my hands for another minute. The other three stood in silence around. I took a deep breath, stood, and said, "okay, follow me."

We headed back towards the green room. The cloister was only a few rooms down the hallway. Once we arrived outside the door, I turned around to face the others. "Okay, it's right here," I told them.

"Okay, cool," Terry nodded. "I'll go and grab Ernie." He made his way back towards the party.

"Oh!" Hannah said quickly. "I just thought of an idea. I'll be back too," she said. She followed after Terry towards the green room.

Hermione smiled. She placed her hand on my shoulder. "I guess it's just the two of us."

"Yeah,"

I reached into my right pocket, took out my wand, and pointed it at the door.

...

...

...

Author's Notes:

Here is the long awaited seventeenth chapter! I know it was a long time coming. In word count, it is the longest chapter yet in the story. I hoped you liked it.

I will admit that I was ready to give up on this story. At some point, writing this story, I feel like it got away from me. Initially it was supposed to be four short punchy ten thousand word stories. Simple and direct. Along the way, they became convoluted and a little messy. I think this is especially clear in Hermione's story. Its pacing is awkward and off; the ideas were unclear and forced. So, after writing chapter 16, I lost most of my drive to finish the story. It had fallen off the rails. There was no hope in saving it.

Then, why write chapter 17? It's all thanks to you, my readers. People still wanted me to finish it. In a sense, even though it had fallen off the rails, it still mattered to people that I finish it. In particular, I would like to thank xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, who recently sent me a pm demanding another chapter. That kind of appreciation for this story makes it still feel alive. So, I had to write another chapter.

That said, I do not want to give false hope. I may be busy in the next couple of months. I cannot guarantee that I will finish this story. You do have my word that I will try. Whatever that is worth.

If you're looking for something else to read, I might suggest some of my other stories. In particular, I recently finished a 10,000 word story called _The Unloved Kids_. It shares many similarities with the Study Group; in my mind, it is a spiritual rewrite of the "Hermione" story in the Study Group. There is also my story _Midnight City_, which was the story that inspired the characterizations of Nott, Terry, Hannah, and Hermione in the Study Group.

Thanks everyone who left a review! Like I said, this chapter probably would not have been written without your support. Feel free to leave a review for this chapter. The more reviews I receive, the more inclined I will be to write more. Although, don't take that as me fishing for reviews. I would much rather have thought out personal responses than a forced review.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	18. A Study Group Party

Chapter 18: A Study Group Party

With my wand pointed against the door, I did what I always did before I entered the Cloister: I read the aura. The first sensation felt like a static shock. A sudden burn on the tip of the wand. The shallow confidence on the surface. Followed by a great emptiness. A chasm surrounding the senses. Gravity pulled down, into the dark void: fear, loneliness, doubt. The meaningless of the moment; a fleeting anxiety of the future. In the distance, small dots, like stars, shone their light. But, they were dim in the dark. The sensation was ingrained in my mind. Every time I read it, it was the same. Over the past few years, I hoped to read some change. I begged for it. But, it was always the same.

I opened the door slowly. Hermione stood behind me. The Cloister was a small room. It may have been a closet once. Now, the cloister consisted of three things: an old Slytherin chair, the rusty square rug, and a painting on the wall. I stepped into the room, and leaned back against the wall next to the painting. Hermione followed behind me, and sat down on the chair.

This was the second time I'd ever brought someone to the Cloister. I brought Hannah once, late at night, when she came to me. It was earlier in the year, after she attended a party with Cedric Diggory. I'm not sure why she came to me particularly, but out of anyone in the school, she chose me. In the Cloister, we shared a moment. She opened up to me. She outlined her fears and her dreams; she described how unsatisfied she felt with life. She wanted to be understood; beyond anything else, she wanted someone to know her for who she was. She felt so distant from everyone. There was a gap between the world she wanted, and the world there was. Now, a painting rested on the wall. A painting with figure with an arched back; spiralling red and blue fought below her breasts. It was a gift from Hannah to commemorate that night. Upon the wall, it served as a permanent marker of that night in the room, forever changing its landscape.

"Were you reading the aura there?" Hermione asked, referring to me placing my wand against the door.

"Yeah." I acknowledged. "It's a force of habit. I read it every time I enter."

"Why's that? Practice?"

"In a sense. It's also a study. I want to see if I can feel it change. So far, I've had no luck."

Hermione stared around the room. "Hannah said this was your private place. Is that true?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I used to come here all the time to study. It was also a helpful place to practice reading auras. When there's no parties going on, it gets nice and quiet. I come here when I feel like taking some time alone and avoiding the bustle of Slytherin."

Hermione looked around the room. She traced her fingers over the details of the chair. It was lined with the usual Slytherin imagery: snakes, torches, and stairwells. The only unique feature was the carving of a line of birds sitting along a branch. Tall feathers lined their heads; the punk rock birds above the sunken house. "Did you find it like this, or did you bring this stuff here?" She asked.

"I brought all of it: the chair, the rug and the painting. It was basically an empty closet when I first found it."

"Doesn't surprise me." Hermione commented. "It feels like a closet. It's awfully stuffy. I'm not sure I could stand it long. How are you able to spend so much time in here?"

I took out my flask from the chest pocket of my leather jacket. I took a sip. "You get used to it. Slytherin's usually pretty stuffy itself, and it gets worse in the evening when everyone's there. You can tell they did not take student's comfort in mind when they built the place. Anyways, this place isn't that bad comparison. And, I'd rather be stuffy and alone than surrounded by those jerk offs."

Hermione smiled. "How punk rock of you. Then, what's the story behind this stuff then? Where did you find it?"

I took another sip of the flask, and then I threw it to her. She caught it, rubbed her thumb along the edge, and took a sip. "Well, the chair I grabbed from another room not far from here. There's a whole stack of them. Probably forgotten in the basement a long time ago. I stole the rug from a Divination classroom in fifth year."

"Really?" Hermione added surprised.

"Yeah. I like to think of it as a liberation myself. It was rolled up to the side and forgotten about. I used to stare at it all through class, for weeks probably. It was wasted there. Dead. Then, on one particularly rebellious day, I decided to take it after class." I laughed to myself. "It might just be the first and only time I truly felt punk rock. Maybe it helped spur my change over the summer break."

"How did no one notice you? There's no way you could carry a rug like that and have no one notice."

"I think that, if people see someone walk confidently with a rug under their arm, they think the person has a reason to be carrying it. Not many people would jump to the conclusion of theft. Stealing a rug is a little bit of an absurd idea. I'm not sure if the school's even noticed it's gone. It must have some kind of magical trace on it. If they wanted to find it, it'd probably be pretty easy."

Hermione smiled. "What about the painting?" She asked pointing at the painting across from the chair.

"The painting..."

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Hermione and I looked at each other. I took a step forward, and pulled on the doorknob.

"Thank God. I was afraid we had the wrong room," Hannah said, stepping into the Cloister. In her arms, she held a half dozen cans of beer. She knelt down, and set them on the ground. "Come in," she said, turning back around, and facing the door. Hesitantly, Stephen followed behind her. He held another half dozen cans of beer. He placed them next to Hannah's haul. "Look at what we found," Hannah said devilishly.

"Where did you find that?" Hermione asked.

"Slytherin's stash. We stole it," She said excitedly.

"How the fuck did you do that?" I said surprised.

She pointed to her nose. "My little secret. It wasn't much. I had Stephen's help. How I see it, they owe us for the shit they put you through. This is our penance. They had tons anyway. I doubt they'll even notice it."

"I'm not complaining," I clarified. "I'm just impressed. This is cool."

Hannah rubbed her pierced ear with her right hand. "I am pretty cool," she said with a smile.

Stephen leaned downwards, grabbed a beer, and handed it to Hannah. Next he grabbed another and motioned it towards Hermione. Hermione shook her head. He shrugged, and offered it to me. I reached forward, Stephen threw the can at me before I could grab it. For a moment, I struggled to get a grip on it, before safely catching it. He opened one for himself. "Thanks for inviting me. This is pretty cool," Stephen said.

"No problem," Hannah said casually. She stole a glance at me. I did not understand the look. I extended my arm forward to open my beer at a safe distance, in case it would fizz because of the agitation. Thankfully, with a _schlock _it opened without fizzing over. I took a sip.

"This room is pretty cool," Stephen spoke. He looked around the room. "Hannah said you use it often Nott?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Although, it's never had many visitors before. This is only the second time someone else has come in here. It's usually pretty quiet."

"Well," Stephen said, "sorry for intruding in your sanctuary. Is all of this stuff yours?" I nodded. "That's sweet. Wish I had a place to call my own in this school." He stared over my shoulder at the painting. "That painting's awesome. Where did you get it? Must have cost a bunch."

"It wasn't so bad," I tried to deflect.

"Really? Where can you find some like that for 'not so bad'? Something that nice must cannot have been cheap."

"You like it that much?" I asked.

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah. How could someone not? Look at it. I love paintings like that. The rough strokes; the vibrant colours; the rough shape. It's beautiful."

Hannah laughed. "You're trying too hard Stephen," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Hannah painted that piece." I informed him.

"No way! You said you just started painting again, and you made this? Recently?" She nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Shit... You're really talented. I'm impressed. Genuinely. No bullshit." He stared closely at the painting. After a moment, he took a step back. "But, what's your painting doing here?"

"It was a gift," Hannah said matter of fact. "A thank you for something Nott did for me earlier in the year." I stared at Hannah's feet as she said that. In the corner of my eye, I could see Hermione looking at me. Her back was straight on the chair. I felt ashamed. I'm not sure why. It rumbled in my stomach. I drank down my beer, hoping it would settle my nerves.

"What do I have to do, to get a gift like this?" Stephen asked playfully.

Hannah snickered. "You have to do something worthy of it. There's no system. Whatever I say is enough, is enough." She spoke confidently.

At that moment, the thought crossed my mind: why was Stephen here? This was a Study Group party. Why had Hannah brought him here? Did she not trust us to be enough? No. That was not it. I stared at her face, hoping to see the truth. Noticing my gaze, she turned away and stared at her feet, like I had done earlier.

"Where's Terry?" Hannah asked, trying to fill the space between us. "I thought he would be here by the time Stephen and I arrived. Wasn't he just grabbing Ernie?"

"I bet they're caught up together," Hermione suggested. A bit of her gossip self peaked through the shield she'd built up around herself the past couple of weeks.

"Caught up doing what?" Stephen asked innocently. He did not know about the two of them.

"Caught up..." Hermione struggled to clarify, without giving away Terry. Stephen stared intensely at her, curious about her answer.

"Telling a story," Hannah interjected. "Have you not noticed recently? They've been hanging around a lot. Terry was grabbing him to come here, but, knowing those two, they're probably caught up telling someone at the party one of their stories." She tried to cover for them.

"Oh," Stephen spoke, as if he did not understand what Hannah meant. Instead of prodding forward, he seemed to accept her answer. "I did not realize they were that close. Now that you mention it, they have seemed to be talking a lot. Not sure I've heard them tell a story or something, but, then again, I haven't really hung out with the two of them all that much. I guess that's something you guys see a lot more." He tried to reason to himself.

"It's one of the benefits of a study group. We get to see each other in different lights than the people in their house," I claimed.

"You guys are lucky for that. I often feel trapped in Ravenclaw, but there's not really an easy way to hang out with people from different houses. You guys have been able to make something special."

"Yeah," Hannah agreed. A deep smile crossed her lips.

The door to the room burst open. Terry stood in the doorway with his arms extended outwards. "Sup bitches!" he announced largely. He paused for a second, noticing Stephen standing in the room with a beer in hand. "...and Stephen."

"Hey Terry," Stephen greeted casually. "I was wondering when you were going to arrive. I was feeling a little left out as the only Ravenclaw. Want a beer?" Stephen extended his arm forward, with a beer in hand. Terry reached forward, and grabbed the beer. With a _schlock _he opened it close to his chest.

Ernie walked into the doorway behind Terry. Raising his hand into the air, he waved at everyone. "Hey all," he spoke. It was a more reserved introduction than Terry's announcement. He closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, the only available space left in the Cloister. Since it was the size of the closet, with six people standing inside it, the space was starting to get a little crammed. Terry nestled beside Ernie. Their shoulders touched.

"You know, we were just talking about you," Stephen said to Terry.

"Yeah? What were you saying? Nothing bad, I hope," Terry spoke a little more drab than usual. Disappointment was evident in his voice. He probably hoped to act freely with Ernie, but Stephen's presence stopped it. Hannah gave Terry an apologetic look.

"Nothing much. They just mentioned how you and Ernie have been close recently. I didn't realize you were such good friends," he said naively.

Terry rubbed his eyes. "You know, when you say it out loud, it sounds really fucking pathetic."

"What does?"

"Hiding it," Terry spoke defeated. Ernie placed his hand reassuringly on Terry's shoulder. Terry took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand," Stephen spoke, confused by the situation.

"Stephen, I'm gay," Terry said.

"What?" Stephen chuckled dismissively.

"Ernie's not just a good friend. He's my boyfriend. My boyfriend boyfriend." Terry said firmly.

"You're serious?" Stephen said, taken aback.

"Yes."

"It's true," Ernie interjected. He grabbed Terry's hand. Terry squeezed Ernie's hand back.

"Fuck..." Stephen spoke, letting it sink in. "I had no idea." He hesitated to speak further; thoughts fought in his off-kilter head. "How long have we lived in the same dorm, five and a half years?" He rubbed his jaw. "I'm shocked. How could I not know something so big like that, for so long. I thought we were close. I thought I knew you."

"I'm sorry Stephen."

"Did... did you all know?" He asked the room. I stared down at my beer, hoping not to catch his gaze. "I'm not sure what to feel. You trust your study group more than you trust me? What did you think, I'd freak out about it? That it would change something. Terry, I've known you for years? Do you not know me?"

"It's not about you. Well, not specifically about you man. You might want to pretend nothing's going to change, but something will. I didn't want things to become complicated. I liked what we had before. And, trust me, you're not the one I was worrying about. It's people like Anthony and Kevin. You know those two. They jump on any mention of drama. This would be a big deal to them. It would be a big deal to all of Ravenclaw. I like how things are right now."

Stephen rubbed his face. "Maybe. You've thought about it more than I have. You're the authority I have on your life. But, do you really think it's worth it? Lying like that? Hiding who you are to the people around you?"

At that moment, I saw Terry at his weakest. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was no longer the tall confident boy who towered above his peers. He was just a kid, confused, not sure what he wanted, faced with reality. It was like removing the veil to discover the human underneath. No matter how different people seemed, deep down, they were the same, pathetic and scared, hanging onto the delicate thread of understanding they had of the world.

But Terry was not truly at his weakest. He was supported by those around him: his boyfriend; his friend for years, and his study group. A simple study group. Four students who came together by chance, from four different houses, were there. How had it become so much more? How could such a group of people so distant to one another, become so close?

Ernie tightened his grip on Terry's hand, and rubbed Terry's forearm delicately. "It's alright," he spoke softly.

Stephen stepped forward, and placed his own hand on Terry's shoulder. "Sorry to seem so combative man. It actually doesn't matter that much. And, you know, maybe you told your study group first, but you still told me. I'm really glad actually. I'm happy to see the real Terry."

Terry tried to speak, but choked back on some words. The moment meant something for him. Perhaps he finally felt free. Unbound by those chains he held himself back with for so many years. I felt like I was intruding on a personal moment. Terry shook his head.

"I'm sorry guys. I think I need to step out for a moment. If you'll excuse me," He said through broken syllables.

"No problem," I reassured him. "Take your time."

Terry opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. Ernie followed behind him. Once the door closed once more, the Cloister was filled with silence. Awkwardly, we sipped our beers. I finished mine, and grabbed another. Hannah reached down and took one for herself. Our hands almost touched. I pulled mine back. She gave me a longing look, but it slowly changed into a smile.

Stephen rubbed his face. "I'm sorry you guys. I feel like I've ruined your party," he spoke apologetically. "I shouldn't have come," he tried to explain.

"Don't worry about it Stephen. Terry will be fine," Hannah said.

Stephen shook his head.

"I wouldn't worry Stephen ," Hermione spoke. "The study group always seems to turn out this way. It's what makes it special."

"I guess," he breathed deeply. "Still, I think I'll head back to the Slytherin party. Let your study group party play out like it should. Sorry." He said again.

"Don't be sorry. It's cool man," I said.

"Alright. This was nice. Have fun," he gave a slight wave and headed out of the cloister.

Then, it was only Hermione, Hannah and I. Me and my girls, as Draco would say. The cloister was far more empty. I ran my fingers through my hair. How could a study group party play out like it should? I just felt self-conscious surrounded by Hannah and Hermione. There was something about the space in between them. It suffocated me. It made me question myself. I did not know why. I felt like I was stretched in two different ways, desperately trying to keep myself together. The study group was strong, and closer than anything else I knew, but there was still such a great distance between us. We were still so far away, even standing together in a closet.

"Hey Nott..." Hannah spoke in a hushed voice. She stared straight down at her beer. "Can I talk to you? In private..." Her voice wavered.

"Um, yeah, sure," I said, unsure how to respond. I had no idea what she wanted to discuss. I shot a look at Hermione, who seemed concerned. Hannah opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. I placed my beer onto the ground, and followed behind her.

Hannah stood still outside the cloister. I expected her to walk further, down the hallway, but she stayed still. She rubbed her pierced ear. "I... uh..." Hannah struggled to speak. I stood patiently, as she tried to find the courage. "I... uh... damn..." She continued. Her right arm began to shake. I wanted to reach forward, and calm her, but I had no idea what was wrong. So I continued to watch her battle with herself. "I... I'm sorry," she finally said.

"Sorry about what?" I asked. I rubbed my eyes. What was going on? I did not understand.

"I'm sorry about what happened between us. I'm sorry that it never worked out." She said. "Everything was a mess. I feel, happy that I came to you that night. It was a blessing, it truly was. But, I needed to work some things out. And, I feel like, it got complicated between us, and confusing, and I didn't know what to do. There was so much dragging me down, and I knew, I knew I could not be honest with myself, I knew there was..." She stopped, and covered her face. "I can't. I don't know the words."

"Hannah, it's okay. I know what you mean. It... it didn't play out how we wanted. But, why now? Why are you talking about it right now?" I tried to assure her.

"I just... I just want to know that you don't hate me," Hannah spoke between her hands.

"I don't hate you Hannah. How could you think that?" I asked. If anything, I hated myself in her gaze. She showed me the weakness inside that approximated and lied about the people around me. I wanted Hannah to be my punk rock princess more than I wanted the real Hannah. It was a rotten miring thought that ate away at my confidence. I wanted her not to hate me, because when I saw her, I only saw the worst part of me reflected in her eyes.

"You could. You could. You'd have every right to. I've depended on you, and been wholly unfair. I do not deserve anything more," she spoke, honest about herself. Maybe, in my gaze, she saw herself the same way I saw myself. We were both fools. Fools locked in their own mind and perceptions.

"It's okay. I don't hate you," I assured her.

"Thanks Nott," She messed up her short hair. "I feel like a mess. Sorry." She breathed deeply, trying to calm down. "I feel like the worst person in the world, but can I ask your advice, Nott? One more time?"

"You can always ask me for advice Hannah. I'm not sure I'll be much help, but you should never worry about asking."

"I think I'm going to ask out Stephen. But I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"Stephen?" I was surprised. That must have been her reason for bringing him to the cloister. She wanted our approval of him.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I've been thinking, recently, right? I've been trying to show myself, so that no one can misunderstand me. But, I've been passive so far. If I really want to show myself, I need to do it directly. I have to put myself forward. I have to be seen. So, I thought, I should be the one to ask someone out. Not let someone else come to me with their preconceptions. I should come to them, bare, open."

"Do you like Stephen though? Asking him out just to be understood doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

"I do like him though," She insisted. "Well, I like him enough. Sorry, I'm not being clear. Maybe I've had a bit too much to drink." She paused for a moment, trying to find the words to speak. "Stephen's cool. He has that Morrissey thing going for him. And, he's not as stuck up as the rest of the Ravenclaws. He and Terry get along, so that's good. And... I don't know."

I smiled. "It's okay Hannah. I believe you. If you want to do it, you should. There's no guarantee it will go well, but there's no guarantee of anything. And, he's a cool guy. Better him than most of the other guys at this school."

"Yeah..." Hannah spoke, with a brief swell of emotion. There was something bittersweet about this. I felt like I was saying goodbye. Not to Hannah, but to something. She stared at me longingly, unable to step forward, as we drifter further away on the current of life.

Hannah continued: "I think I'm going to try to find him. Stephen. I might be back. I'm not sure." She took a couple steps down the hallway. Partway, she paused, and turned to me. "Take care Nott. Sorry, again."

I gave her a brief wave. "I'm sorry too," I spoke. She turned around, and headed towards the Slytherin party.

I opened the door, and went back into the cloister. Hermione was still sitting on the chair. When she saw me enter, she tried to smile. I went back to the spot I stood before, and picked up my beer from the ground. Hermione held my flask close to her chest. She stroked the side. "Where's Hannah?" She asked.

"She's going to ask Stephen out," I said, in a daze.

"Really?" Hermione perked up in her seat, as if a weight was lifted from her. "That's so cool!" Hermione's gossip self peeked through once more. "They'll be a really cute couple. Stephen obviously likes her." A genuine smile grew on her lips. "What did Hannah want to speak to you about then?" She asked.

"I think she wanted to ask me for permission," I said stoically. I took a sip from my beer.

"Why would she want to ask you for permission?"

"I'm... not sure," I said. Did she really just want advice, or did she want one last chance to grasp at whatever we had? Was it a test to see if it was too much? Or did she know the inevitable end between us.

Noticing I did not want to speak about it further, Hermione sat back in her chair. "You know, I was thinking while you were out there. You were not really forthcoming about what this room is," she observed.

I finished my beer, and reached down to grab another. "What do you mean?"

"You said it was a study of whether you felt change or not, but I don't think you were clear on what you were studying. While I was sitting her, I thought about the three things you had in here: the chair, the rug, Hannah's painting. I though about what each meant. I thought about how strange it was that you would add things to a room you want to notice change. Because, wouldn't that be artificially changing it? It would be an unnatural change."

She continued: "then it hit me. You're not reading the aura of this room. You're not using the door as the focal point for the room. The room is the focal point. You're trying to read your own aura. You're looking to notice a change in your own aura. The things you have brought into this room are the external parts of yourself that would be missing if you tried to read it in isolation in a room like this: the chair is Slytherin, the rug is punk rock, and the painting is the study group. They need to be here for you to have a full view of yourself."

I stood dumbfounded. My face was blank. I felt blinded by Hermione's words. How could she figure that out? How was it possible? How? How? How? There was a clear reason Hermione was the top mark. She was brilliant. I was exposed. Panic began to build up in me. How could I stand like this before her?

She stared at me, as if taking my silence as confirmation. Although, I'm sure she did not need it. She knew the truth. "I... I tried reading the aura like that. I focused on the whole room, and pushed it forward, through the door, onto you standing out there," she stopped, as if realizing what she had done. She lowered her head. "Wait. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She covered her face. "Oh God, I wasn't thinking. I should have asked you first. You probably feel so defiled. I'm such an idiot." She said frustrated with herself.

"What was you r reading?" I asked straight. "Tell me."

"It... it felt lonely. There was a confidence on the surface, but below it, there was an empty expanse. In the distance, there were things, lights, far away. I thought to myself," she hesitated, and looked at me. I stared directly at her. She continued: "I thought that if you want change, if want to read change, than you can't just stand there in the expanse. You can't just stare at the lights in the distance. If you want change, you have to reach forward. You have to reach out and grab them, and pull them in. You have to overcome the distance. You have to..."

I stepped forward. She stopped speaking. Her eyes were wide. Silent, she watched me approach. I stood in front of her. She sat back in the chair. Slowly, I reached down, and place my hand onto the side of her neck. Without breaking eye contact, she touched my hand delicately with her fingers. I leaned forward.

And I kissed her.

"Theodore..." Hermione moaned.

I kissed her again.

Then again. Then again. She moved her hand up, and stroked my cheek. She continued upwards, running her hands through my messy black hair. I moved closer. Our legs became intertwined. She sat up. Her head extended towards mine, stretching her neck back. I moved my hand around her neck, and pressed the back of her head towards me, locking us together, keeping our lips touching. Her breaths were warm. I stared at her face. She kept her eyes close. Our eyes an inch apart, but I felt even closer than that. I watched the muscles under her cheeks soften. I watched the flutter under her eye lids. I saw Hermione Granger. My lips touched hers.

I placed my hand on her hip. I could feel her diaphragm move. Breath in. Breath out. Time slowed. Every movement lasted a minute. She brushed open my leather jacket, grabbed my shirt with both of her hands, and pulled me closer to her, until I was straddling her lap. We continued to kiss. My hand on her hip slipped under her shirt. Her skin was warm. Hairs stood up as my hand brushed over them. Her hands gripping me did the same. They pushed up my shirt, and explored my slender chest

We were together there: within each others' arms, our lips locked together, in the cloister, in the basement of Hogwarts, at the study group party. We were connected. As close as our bodies could reach.

A smile crossed Hermione's lips, and she let out a giggle. I pulled back for a moment. Her cheeks tightened. She chuckled. "Sorry. Sorry. It's just, I, I just thought it was funny you're straddling me. Isn't it suppose to be the other way around?" She continued to laugh, as it if we funnier than it was. Her cheeks reddened. She might have been a bit embarrassed. I stared at her confused for a second. Then, I realized I was putting my weight on her lap. I stood up quickly. "Wait!" Hermione said her arms towards me. "Wait. Don't go. I'm sorry." She continued to chuckle.

I grabbed my beer from the ground, and took a large gulp. "Sorry, I just realized I must have been crushing you."

Hermione's face became stern. "I'm a strong girl, you know. You're a pretty light boy. I barely noticed."

"In that case," I stepped forward, and ran my fingers through her hair, stealing another kiss on her lips.

Then, a knock on the door.

Fuck.

I stepped back. I straightened my shirt, to look presentable. Hermione did the same. The door opened to reveal Terry and Ernie standing together. "Sorry for leaving like I did," Terry spoke, stepping into the cloister. He grabbed one of the beers off the ground, and handed it to Ernie, before grabbing another for himself.

"How... how are you feeling?" Hermione said, trying to sound normal.

Terry looked at her accusatory, then at me, then back at Hermione. Something obviously happened. "I feel fine. Good actually. Great. I feel really good. Better than I expected. Relieved. I feel relieved." Terry spoke like a floodgate had been opened. His usual confident self seemed to be back. He flashed us a smile.

"Glad to hear it," I said.

"Where's Hannah?" Ernie asked.

"Going to ask out Stephen," Hermione said, with a perky enthusiasm. The wall she built around her since the Halloween Ball seemed to have been broken down, if only temporarily.

"What?" Terry said surprised. "Really? Is she trying to steal my buzz? I'm the one who came out to him, and now she's trying to over shadow it." Terry teased with a huff.

"You're such a drama queen," Ernie commented. Terry pouted at him. The two of them shared a laugh

"Uh, guys," Hermione spoke. "Could we go back to the other party. I don't think the study group party is faring any better. I think it would be more fun to try to join the Slytherins again."

Terry stared at Hermione confused. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yeah," Hermione said.

"I agree," I added.

Terry looked at Hermione, then at me, then at Hermione again. "Okay. What happened while I was gone? Did you two make-out or something?" he asked, trying to figure out the situation.

"No! Nothing happened." Hermione insisted. Terry gave her a knowing look. "I think we just needed to calm down a bit. Now that we're okay, I don't want to give up. Lets give it another try, okay?"

"Alright," Terry agreed, "If you guys want to," he said reluctantly. He did not know what to make of the decision. He opened the door, and stepped out of the cloister. Hermione, for the first time since stepping inside, got up from the chair. She and I shared a look. It would be better to face the party once more rather than stay longer in the same place. It was awkward. We yearned. Better to leave, and maybe come back another time. Return to the place between our arms.

The four of us returned to the party together. The green room had thinned out a little. A couple students had called it a night. The Slytherins lounged on their couches drinking. In the middle of the room, a make-shift dance-floor had started. It was the centre of attention; people moved their bodies along with the quick loud music. Among the group, Hannah danced with Stephen. Her arms were in the air. She was smiling. Consumed. Her short red hair glowed in the light. She seemed different, more confident, ready to show herself to the room, to Stephen. I watched her for a moment, before leaning against the wall, as I always did.

Terry turned to Ernie. "Do you want to dance?" Terry asked.

"Together?" Ernie questioned.

"Yeah. Fuck it. I'm tired of hiding. Lets dance."

A smile grew along Ernie's lips. "Okay."

They grabbed each others' hands, and slowly moved over to to the dance-floor. Ernie took the lead, despite his smaller shape. Terry spun himself awkwardly in Ernie's arms. They looked funny, but endearing. And Terry smiled. A pure smile. One of the smiles that can't be avoided in moments of comfort. When you just feel right. Tears welled up in Terry's eyes. Tears of happiness. I felt like I was watching a personal moment set free, for everyone to experience.

Hermione grabbed my hand. "Do you want to dance?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's not really punk rock," I said.

"That's a lie. There is nothing more punk rock than dancing."

"You're probably right," I conceded.

On the dance-floor, we moved in closer. Arm placed on arm. There, dancing with Hermione, might just have been the second time I truly felt punk rock.

...

...

...

Author's Notes:

Here it is! Chapter 18! I hope you liked it. This chapter is a culmination of many points in this story. I've been planning parts of it ever since I started the story. I hope those waiting for a moment between Hermione and Nott are satisfied. If you're curious, that's the first time in the whole story someone refers to Nott simply as Theodore.

Writing this story ended up being a surprisingly emotional experience. There were moments when I chocked up, and even teared up while writing it. It surprises me how emotionally attached I could get to these characters. The final paragraph talking about Terry dancing with Ernie refers back to a fantasy Terry has back in Chapter 8. When I wrote the original paragraph, I was heartbroken by Terry's desire to be open and happy by simply dancing, something everyone else who is 'normal' can enjoy without thinking about it. Writing the paragraph in this chapter, allowing Terry to finally feel those emotions he desired so strongly, really affected me. I nearly cried as I wrote it out. I've never felt so directly close to what I was writing before in that sense. There's always been a gap between my writing and me, even when it was tragic or sad. That time it touched me. Many moments in this chapter did. I was glad to be nice to these characters I've been so mean to.

I feel like I have stepped over a hurdle in a sense. There will be two more chapters in the story, but, really, this chapter is the apogee of the whole story. It is the emotional core. It's when the characters are thrown forward past the conflicts that have plagued them. That's not to say important things will not happen in the next two chapters, but, to me, this chapter is the story. I hope you liked it. I know it was special to me. It felt, almost, in a sense, like the first step of a good-bye. The moment you realize it's about to slip from your grasp. It's a bittersweet moment. I want to finish the story. I need it to finish it. But, there will be sadness in the end. When something is over, you can't go back. It's funny to describe a story like that, but it feels the same. At the very least, it shows how important it is to me. However much that is worth.

Considering there will be only two more chapters, if you have any questions about the story, feel free to ask. I will answer. Be it about themes, characters, motivations, or even where I got certain ideas.

As you wait for the next chapter, check out some of my other Hermione/Nott stories. I've just started some new ones. They're a lot of fun. Please give them a read if you would like.

I wanted to thank everyone for their nice reviews of the last chapter. I might not get the most reviews, but I feel blessed by the wonderful comments I have received. It's clear to me that you've read the story and appreciated it, even despite its many faults. Whenever I am feeling down, or unmotivated, I simply read some of them over once more, and feel better. Thank-you, truly.

Anyways, I think that's all. Sorry for being a bit rambling.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	19. The Morning After

Chapter 19: The Morning After

The next morning, I awoke in a daze. The memories felt like dreams, drifting just past my fingertips. It was too grand, too big, too much, to be real. I rubbed my eyes. A sour taste hung in the back of my mouth. The night had not played out how any of us intended. The Slytherin party was a disaster. The study group party never really got started. And yet, it felt like everything fit into place. The pieces came to together in just the right way.

In a sense, I was afraid to get out of bed. I did not know where to go from there. A deep satisfaction with where I was filled my body. If I got up, if I continued on, the only direction to go was away from here. Even though it is true of every moment, I was selfish. I did not want to let it go. So, stubborn, I laid, staring at the ceiling, in the place I wanted to be, alright, in the Slytherin sixth year dorm room.

I remembered the final day of fifth year. I ran out of my dorm in a panic. It was the last time I awoke after attending a Slytherin party. I felt trapped inside the walls. It was the primary incentive for my change over the summer. From Theodore Nott the awkward kid to Theodore Nott the punk rocker. I needed to break free from those changes. That's why I tried to change myself. But, as I knew from reading my own aura, through the cloister, it was all cosmetic. I was still the same awkward boy, just with a new style of clothes. And, yet, here I was, sitting in my dorm room, okay. Maybe I had not changed. I was still the same. But, something changed. Somewhere.

I sat up. The other boys tossed and turned in their sleep. They had too much to drink the night before. Their dreams were restless. Perhaps they were reaching back to those moments behind them as well. I put on my tight black pants, black boots, Iceage shirt, leather jacket, and sunglasses. Tepidly, I stepped around the others' beds and went out into the common room. Lower year students filled the space left by the absent recovering upper years. They enjoyed their moment of control in a room always dominated by a hierarchy based on age.

Heading out the front door, I turned right, up the stairs, and out the door to the outside. The courtyard was bare. The single tree stood in the middle without leaves. The cruel autumn winds had left its branches looking like brittle old fingers curling at the end. I zipped up my leather jacket. Soon it would be December, and the cold winter would start. Exams would pass. The semester would end. At the moment, we stood at a precipice, overlooking the end.

"Hey Nott," a coarse voice called to me.

I turned to see Draco sitting against the wall, next to the door. His eyes drooped down, and his pale skin looked chalky. He leaned forward, staring at the ground, with an empty plastic cup resting next to him.

"Hey Draco," I greeted. "What are you doing out here this early?"

He rubbed his face. "Is it early yet?" He asked. The syllables were strained. Like he had crawled through a dessert searching for water.

"What do you mean? Have you been out here all night?" I asked. I took out my pack of black cigarettes. I put one in my mouth, and lit it. I exhaled slowly, letting the smoke crawl out my lips.

Draco chuckled to himself. "Yeah. Probably." He rubbed his face. "Feels like it at least."

"Shit Draco that sounds awful."

"Trust me. It feels worse than it sounds."

"What happened? Why are you here?" I asked.

"Pansy."

"Figures." I sat down on the cold ground next to my friend. I offered him one of my smokes. Slowly, he reached forward to grab it, placed it in his mouth. I lit the tip of it with my lighter. He took a couple slow, long drags, before starting to speak.

"At the end of the party," Draco began, "a bunch of us decided to watch the sun rise: Crabbe, Millicent, Blaise, Goyle, and Pansy. You know, a final sort of moment to conclude the night. So, drunk, we stumbled together down to the lake. It was freezing cold, but we didn't mind. We weren't going to let that stop us. Anyways, so we sat on the grass in a line. And, as you can guess, I ended up sitting next to Pansy. It was okay. We didn't touch or make out or anything. We were just friends sitting next to each other.

"Then what happened?"

Draco breathed deeply. He took a drag from his cigarette. "Well, then, right as the sun peaked over the horizon, she turned to me. She leaned in real close, right next to my ear. I could feel her warm breaths on my skin. And then she said it, quietly, delicately: 'I love you'."

"Fuck..." I said. "That's heavy man. How did you react?"

"I said nothing. But, I felt obliged. I needed to do something. So, I kissed her, on the neck. We got up, and headed back to Slytherin. At the entrance, I said I needed to grab a quick smoke. I came out here, and haven't left."

I leaned back on the cold wall. "Well, at least you didn't say you loved her back. Then you would have just dug yourself into an even deeper hole. I swear, your relationship with that Peisino is just a rollercoaster of drama."

"Peisino? What's that?" Draco asked.

"Sorry. It's the name of a siren. I've been reading a lot for Quirrell's _Classics_ exam. My mind's full of that."

Draco stared at me for a second. His gaze was blank. I tried to smile at his reaction. With a deep breath, he began to speak. "You know. I'm glad I said nothing. But, since I've been here, I've been fighting with myself. It's not that I like Pansy in that way. I have such uneven thoughts about her. One moment she's an evil, manipulative bitch, and the other she's smart, witty, with a great laugh. There's a part of me that wants to feel the way she makes me, but I can't keep swinging the pendulum like that. I wish I could pick one side of her, and stick to it."

"No one's always good, and no one's always bad. Everyone has different sides to themselves. Why should you expect Pansy to be different?" I asked him.

He ran his fingers through his white hair. "I know. I've been thinking about that. And, you know what? Maybe I'm the one who has a problem. I always blamed her. But, that's unfair. She can stand the highs and lows of being around me. I'm the one too selfish to look past the parts of her I do not adore."

He continued: "I have this insipid need to control things. I watch others do stuff, and it drives me crazy. I'm convinced I'm the best leader. I would do it better. Sometimes that's true, but I feel it every time. And, in regards to Pansy, I want to control her. I hate when she does things I do not like. I want to correct her in those moments. I want to dictate how she should live. That's really fucked up right? That's some 1950's way of thinking. Am I really like that? It's driving me mad."

I shook my head. "I don't think you're like that Draco. I think you're just tired, and still a little drunk. There's nothing wrong with wanting other people to improve. Especially when they're as much a bitch as Pansy. Not going to lie, she's worse than most. You're just shaken by her saying she loves you, so you've convinced yourself of something stupid. Although, perhaps being a little less obsessive would do you some good," I tried to explain to him.

"Probably," he agreed. "I'm sorry about what happened last night, by the way. I was on a bit of a power trip. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. It was a boneheaded thing to do. Harry Potter showing up like that put me a bit on tilt. You know what happens when you imagine something going down, and you fantasize about how you would act in that situation. Well, having Harry fucking Potter show up to crash my party was exactly like that. I'd told myself I would stand firm, and show him what's what." He took a deep breath, sitting back against the wall. "And, yet, all the good I feel like it's done is give me a bugger of a bruise from where he punched me."

"Things did get a little hectic," I agreed. "You weren't exactly wrong, either. Who was I to tell you what to do? It was your party. If it's you prerogative to act like a dim witted brute, then more power to you. I only regret getting in your way. Being in the middle of a brawl is no place for a coward like me."

"Maybe, but don't sell yourself short Nott," Draco insisted. "Why do you think I keep you around? Why do you think I ask for your advice rather than from one of my boys? Simple. I liked your advice. I respect it. I expect you to tell me things that I might not want to hear. The guys are too interested staying my friend to call me on my bullshit. You don't have that problem."

"It's thanks to you that I don't," I admitted.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"You remember the last day of school last year? I had a panic attack in the dorm room, and I came out here looking to clear my head? You came out here to smoke, and you gave me some advice. You told me to stop brown nosing those around me. Call the people who were treating me like shit assholes. Admit that I could not stand them. I really did take that advice to heart. It set me free, as stupid as that sounds."

Draco chuckled to himself. The rough circles around his eyes dragged them down, until it looked as he was barely there at all. Closer to a corpse reflecting on his life than my friend. "It's funny how small things can affect you like that. Some stupid advice I gave you. Three words Pansy said to me. We really are strange creatures, aren't we?"

"Yeah," I agreed with him. "Maybe you should get some sleep. You look like absolute crap."

Draco nodded his head. He tossed the butt of his cigarette onto the ground. "How did the rest of the night go for you? After all that bullshit? I saw you guys come back. I was surprised to see you there again."

I smiled. "I was surprised myself, to be honest. Things were actually pretty okay, all things considered. It was a real punk rock night, that's for sure."

"Cool. I'll see you later." Draco stumbled to stand. He leaned against the wall as he moved, resembling a slow moving zombie. He headed to the door, and rubbed his eyes before heading inside.

I stayed outside for a couple more minutes. The air outside was bitterly cold. It felt like winter was finally beginning to encompass the area. I could see my breath, pensive, tired, sitting against the wall. I tossed the butt of my cigarette onto the grass covered in the morning frost. I was happy Draco and I were able to come to terms with each other. The night before, I feared that we'd shattered the fragile glass that held together our connection. A year before, I would have been certain that we could not repair it. But, maybe, in the passing months, I'd grown to understand relationships enough to bounce back after something bad happened.

I stood up to leave. I reached for the door, and as I began to pull it open the door, I heard the chirp of a bird. Ophelia. I turned around suddenly. The courtyard was still empty. The single tree with its bare branches stood still like a statue. No red birds flew. I desperately wanted to see Ophelia, my connection to the courtyard, but I knew it was gone, having flown over the wall. I decided the chirp was its farewell to me. A parting gift. A final goodbye.

I headed down the hallway towards the library. Students moved slowly in packs. The Gryffindor kids avoided my gaze when I passed by them in the halls. I suspected the story of the fight the night before had begun to make its rounds. It brought a smile to my face to think that they might have mentioned my participation in it. Sure, I laid down on the ground like a scared dog. It's not liked it mattered. I liked the punk rock tinge to the idea: I'd been in a real brawl the night before. I pictured myself as the martyr to peace, sacrificing myself between the opposing sides in a vain attempt to stop the inevitability of violence. It was a more romantic notion than what happened. I was a scared stupid kid who had a little too much to drink sticking my nose where it did not belong.

Outside the library, I spotted Terry standing with his arms crossed. He looked as well kept as ever. His hair was styled to one side, with a casual dress shirt and tight blue jeans. He gave me a friendly wave as I approached. His warm inviting grin on his mouth.

"You sure look chipper," I commented, teasing him a little.

Terry walked up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, "and you my friend, look like just as much a mess as ever," he said with a warm tone.

"You think I look bad? You should have seen Draco. I just caught him in the court yard looking half dead."

"You spoke with him?" Terry asked, looking concerned.

I nodded. "Yep. Don't worry. We're cool. It's not like we close enough friends for last night to have meant anything anyway," I remarked. "What are you doing out of the library anyway. Waiting for someone?"

"Yes. You."

"Me?" I asked, taken a little aback. "Why are you waiting for me?"

"There's something I wanted to ask you about."

"Oh yeah?"

"Last night. Something was up when I got back to that room. You and Hermione suggested we leave awfully quickly. If you were trying to be coy, then you failed.

Something happened. I just want to know if it's something I should be concerned about."

"I didn't think you were so protective of me," I commented.

Terry scowled. "You know that's not what I meant. You know how fucked up the past couple of weeks have been for Hermione. And yesterday she watched you get in a fight with Harry again. I just want to make sure I'm not walking into a mine field in there." Terry motioned his head towards the library door.

"It's cool," I tried to assure him. "Nothing happened. Trust me."

"Why are you avoiding telling me then? Huh?" Terry shot back. A sly smile crossed his lips. He brought up his hand, poking me in the cheek. "And why are blushing a little?"

I swatted away his hand. "Fuck off."

Terry laughed a little. "Okay. I see what's going on." He opened the door to the library. "Don't worry Nott. I understand not wanting to kiss and tell more than anyone."

I nearly punched him, but he scurried into the library, skirting through the stacks more nimble than a man his size should be able to. I pulled off my sunglasses, slipping them into my leather jacket pocket.

I hesitated momentarily before stepping into the library. It felt as if I was about to pass a threshold. Or, rather, that I was returning back after passing through some long, arduous journey. It pained me to imagine that things might be different when I sit at the table. The study group may remain the study group, but what of the people? What of me? The night before sent my head through spirals. There was a sickening dizziness that built up inside me as I imagined the Slytherin party and the study group party crammed into the cloister. I was brought back to those days after the Halloween Ball, when everything was moving so quickly. Shifts in people's attitudes happened drastically at the drop of a pin. Hermione was hurt. It was my fault. At least, it felt that way. The fear felt palpable enough that I imagined that I could reach forward and touch it with my hand.

But instead, most unlike myself, I stepped forward anyway.

Hermione, Hannah, and Terry all sat around the study group's table. They looked worse for wear than they did earlier in the week. Terry and Hannah sat across from each other. Terry sat forward, his elbows on his knees, still smiling from earlier. His raised his eyebrows at me as I approached, giving me a slight wink with his right eye. Hannah sat back in her chair. Her pupils were dilated, and she groaned slightly. Her short red hair was mussed up, looking wild and bunched together. She waved at me slightly; I waved back.

Hermione sat across from my usual seat. Unlike the others, she had her school books with her. Desperately, she sprawled in a notebook, writing down comments about the _Classics _book she held in the other hand. Her Odyssey's spine was broken. The pages were filled with post it notes and dog eared corners. She made sure not to look at me. She did not even acknowledge me at all.

I took my regular seat. I leaned back, taking the front legs off the ground. "You're all here bright and early," I said, making sure not to mention my earlier conversation with Terry.

"Well," Terry began, "I needed to get out of Ravenclaw before Anthony and Kevin woke up. There was enough Ravenclaw kids at the end of that party who saw me and Ernie together, that it would only take a moment for those gossips to be begging me for details. No thanks. I'd much rather be here than fed to those crows. Plus, leaving Stephen there probably left more than enough for them to hound on, with everyone noticing him dancing with a short haired rebel."

Hannah leaned forward in her chair. "I'd feel bad for Stephen, if I didn't feel worse for myself. I feel like I made a fool of myself last night. A lot of it's a little bit of a blur, but I feel like I did a couple things. I have this picture in my mind of me and Stephen stealing beer from the Slytherin Quidditch team. Was that real? It can't be real." She insisted.

"It's real. You took about half a dozen," I informed her.

She rubbed her temples. "Is something wrong with me? Especially after the whole thing with Gryffindor. Who in the right mind would possibly do that?"

"Well, clearly," Terry interjected, "you were not in the right mind."

Hannah let out an audible sigh. "The whole thing is so embarrassing. It's not like I mind how I acted with Stephen, but I could have done it with a little more pose, you know? There were easier ways to do that. HufflePuff has its share of gossips, and I sure got an earful this morning." She rubbed her temple. "All I want to do is curl up into a ball and hide."

"You weren't that bad," I tried to insist. "I thought you carried yourself fine. It's not like you showed up at his house in the middle of the night afterwards, right?"

Hannah peered up, giving me a cold stare. I'm sure she did not appreciate me bringing up that time earlier in the year. I slightly regretted my words. I only intended to make it clear that if we could stay close friends after that, then she had nothing to fear about Stephen. He seemed more than willing to go along with it the night before.

"I think," Terry interjected, trying to cool the mood down a little, "what Nott is trying to say is that you have nothing to worry about. Look, we all did things last night. Things that I think we should all be supportive about. That's the strength of the study group, right? We have each other's backs. There is no use trying to hide it."

Hannah gave Terry a confused look. "What are you talking about? I'm not trying to hide anything. You saw everything that happened between me and Stephen."

A wicked smile grew on Terry's lips. "I know," he said. He gave me a slight wink. Hannah looked at me in confusion. I shrugged my shoulders innocently, pretending not to understand him either. Hermione's focused stayed squarely in her books, not paying any heed to what was being said. "Still," Terry continued. He stretched his arms out of his chair. "At least you did not come out of the closet yesterday. That fact's taking a bit of getting used to."

"How are you feeling about it?" Hannah asked.

"I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering. To be honest, I wonder how many people actually noticed. Sure, Stephen now knows, but people might think Ernie and I dancing was just being playful or funny." He let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter either way anyway. I was getting real sick of hiding anyways. I woke up this morning with what felt like a real weigh off my shoulders. It'd been weighing me down for so long, I'm not sure I ever realized how it much it brought me down. I feel great. Really great. How's Ernie?"

"He's okay," Hannah said. "I did not have a chance to talk with him earlier. I think he's sleeping. He was in high spirits when we walked back to HufflePuff last night. I doubt anything's happened since then. Gossip does not really affect him anyway, so I'm not worried."

"That's good," Terry said with a little relief in his voice. "I have to admit, when we planned to attend the party last night, this is not exactly how I expected it would play out. The study group sure knows how to party."

"I think I may not come along next time," I said. "I seem to have this bad tendency of getting my ass kicked by Gryffindor's Quidditch team whenever I go out with you guys."

Terry laughed. "You do have a real knack for it."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've always had crummy luck when I go out. I think it's time I just accept that I may not be able to avoid that."

"That's sort of defeatist, isn't it?" Hannah questioned. "I think you're problem is the way you're looking at it. It's not that you always get your ass kicked by Gryffindors. It's that you always ruin their plans whenever you go out. You're fighting against their system."

"I like that," I said with a smile. "It makes me sound a little more punk rock."

"Which is really the most important thing for you," Terry commented. "I swear that if I told you setting yourself on fire is punk rock, you'd light a match in a second."

"Just say when," I joked.

Terry clapped his hands. "Alright. Now, with exams coming up, the four of us are really going to need to bunker down. Remember, this is a study group, first and foremost. If we don't study, then we defeat the whole purpose. However," Terry paused. Hannah and I stared at him. Hermione perked her eyes up, a bit curious about what he was going to say. "There is no fucking way I'm going to get any work done today. Not with my head hurting like right now."

Hannah nodded her head. "Count me in that group. Every time I try to think, all I feel is pain."

"Right. In that interest, I think I'm going to head out of here," Terry said. "I'm too hung over to work, these chairs are really uncomfortable, and I have some rumors to face. The way I see it, I'm going to have to respond to all of the things people are probably saying eventually. I might as well get my side of the story out now. It might save me from some of the shit that's going to be thrown my way."

"I think I will head out as well," Hannah spoke. "I need to eat some breakfast. Ernie might be there too. We need to debrief on last night."

"You two going to be alright here by yourselves?" Terry teased.

"Please. Hermione and I are here by ourselves more often then you two ever care to show up," I responded.

"Sure. But that was before last night." Terry said.

For the first time, Hermione's head shot upwards. Terry let out a deep laugh. Hermione gave me an angry stare. Hannah just looked confused at all of us. Instead of feeling self-conscious in their attention, as I always did, I actually found the whole situation amusing. The next time I saw Terry, I was going to hit in the back of the head. I knew that for sure.

"We'll be okay," I assured him.

Terry stood up from his seat. Hannah joined him. The two of them waved at us, as they left. Hermione and I awkwardly waved back. We sat in silence until the two of them left the room.

"I didn't tell him anything," I tried to explain to Hermione once I was certain the two of them could no longer hear me. "Terry just kind of guessed."

"It's okay," Hermione said. Her voice sounded rough. Now that she was looking up, I noticed the deep bags under her eyes. She might not have looked as bad as Draco, but she looked exhausted. "I didn't think you did. Terry has a way of finding things out when you don't want him to."

"Yeah," I agreed.

We sat in silence.

I did not know what to say to her. I'd never shared something with someone, like I did the night before. That kiss lingered on the edge of my lips like a constant static shock. I could not look at her without thinking about it. I grabbed my sunglasses from the pocket in my coat, and put them on. Anxiety filled me. What was I going to say? What did I want to say? She was only across the table from me. We'd sat like this the entire semester. But, in that moment, it felt like an uncrossable chasm opened up between us. How was I going to explain my feelings, when I could not even figure them out for myself? I wanted to say something. I wanted to say something clear, simple, and easy. Instead, my emotions were a swirling mess eating away at the edges of my stomach.

I thought of Hannah's painting I'd hung in the Cloister. She'd been able to capture those twisting miring complexities that were built in those moments. The blue and red figure with her arched back was laid open, letting the viewer see the swirl in her stomach that grew out into the whirlpool of her shape. It understood the way that the jarring truth of experiencing is that it is not stagnant, or mechanical, but fluid and moving in such a way that's hard to capture in a moment.

I wished I could reach forward, touch Hermione, and in that connection, share what was built inside of me. But, life's not that simple.

"Hey Nott," Hermione said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling the magical aura of the room?"

"No," I replied. "I'm just thinking."

"I've been thinking about last night," Hermione said with a shy voice. "Why are you trying to read a change in your aura?"

I took off my sunglasses, and placed them on the table between us. "I'm not entirely sure myself. At this point, it's almost more a force of habit than anything else. I think, when I started, I was kind of lonely and depressed. A part of me hoped that if I could read a change in myself, there was a chance that I could get better. I would be able to fix the parts of me that lead me to be so lonely and depressed."

Hermione frowned. "You don't need to change Nott to no longer be lonely. Look at yourself right now. You're not lonely now are you? You haven't been lonely all semester. You didn't need to change yourself to get that. All you needed were friends who like you for who you are."

I let out a slight smile. "You're probably right."

She turned her head back towards her books. I watched her silently. Maybe I did not need to express exactly what built up inside me. The chasm might separate us, but we can still talk over top of it.

"Hermione," I spoke up. "You want a small lesson? On reading auras?"

Hermione looked up from her book. Her inquisitive stare tried to understand my meaning. "Right now?" She asked.

"Yep. Here." I placed my hand on the table, palm up. "Place your hand next to mine."

Hermione sat back in her chair. "Haven't we already had this lesson before, that time when I came to the library after avoiding it for two weeks?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah. We did. But, sometimes it's good to go through lessons again. It's a good way to measure progress."

"Alright. Fine." She placed her hand close to mine. Our arms both extended across the table.

"Okay. Now, focus on your hand," I began to say. "Feel the muscles, the bones, your blood, and the magic flowing around it. Grasp all of those feelings, and then pull the downwards. Yank them down to the surface of the table. When it's all the way there, anchored, pull the table up with it, until the magic covers all those feelings you held onto." I paused, watching her hand.

"Now what?" Hermione asked, frozen in her spot.

I reached over, and placed my hand in hers. It was stiff at my first touch, but softened in my grasp as her arm went limp. I stared intensely at her hand, too afraid to look up at her eyes.

"I'm…" I struggled to speak. My anxiety erupted in me like an exploding well. "I'm really glad I have you," I said. "I know last night made things complicated, but I was so happy. I don't want to lose that. I want to hold on to you for as long as I can." My hand began to shake. I felt as though I was losing control of myself, slipping away into panic.

"Nott…" Hermione spoke. Her voice was soft and velvety. I nearly melted from the syllable. Her grasp tightened around my hand. "I'm so glad I have you as well. I know this semester has been tough, but I'm not sure I could have got through it without you. Last night was special to me. I loved every second of it. I have no intention of pulling away from your grasp anytime soon.

I looked to my right, and then my left, checking to see if there was anyone else around us. The stacks were empty. A couple lower years students were whispering off in the distance.

I pulled her hand towards me, and leaned over the table. She was pulled along. Over the study group table, we shared a quick kiss.

Hermione sat back down in her seat with her face red. I grabbed my sunglasses off the table, and put them over my eyes, hoping to hide a bit of the shame I felt myself. "Sorry," I said out loud.

Hermione shook her head. She opened her book. "There's nothing to apologize about. Just don't make too much of a habit about it. We're going to need some time to study here."

I nodded. "Right." My head was twirling. It was not like before. My anxiety was gone. Instead, I was filled with confused wonder at myself. Did I really just do that? The boy who hid in the corners for all six years at Hogwarts? I never expected that I had it inside me. My mind raced at a hundred miles a second, and I felt like the world was spinning. The electric shock on my lips from the kiss stung in the most wonderful way. I needed to clear my head. "I think I'm going to head out," I said. "I didn't even bring any books to study."

"Okay," Hermione said, looking up. "I'll see you later then?"

"Yes."

"Good." She turned back towards her books.

I left the library, and moved through the halls in a daze. I tried not to think of anything as I felt the world twist and turn around me. I felt as though I was shifted out of that place of comfort I had locked myself inside of for so long. My eyes watched the world with the help of a new colour that made everything look new and different.

I headed down the stairs, through the labyrinth of rooms in the basement, until I arrived at the Cloister. The place that had started it all the night before. My refuge in the school: the mirror of myself. I could smell the stale empty beer cans we left in it the night before. Tepidly, I pulled out my wand, my hand shook slightly, and I placed it against the door.

The first sensation felt like a static shock. A sudden burn on the tip of the wand. The shallow confidence on the surface. Followed by a great emptiness. A chasm surrounding the senses. Gravity pulled down, into the dark void: fear, loneliness, doubt. The meaningless of the moment; a fleeting anxiety of the future. In the distance, small dots, like stars, shone their light. It was all too familiar: the same reading I always did. But then, I noticed something. It was subtle, only slight, and I would not notice if I was not so familiar with the read: I was closer to the lights. I'd stepped forward, off the edge, and the dim dots in the dark were a little brighter. I moved. I moved. I moved! The reading changed. Putting the items in the cloister did not change me, the different circumstances did not change me, but reaching out to finally grab what I wanted did.

I changed. I read it. The case study was over. I did it.

I lowered my wand, and started to cry.

…

Part 4: Theodore's Story End

…

Author's Notes:

Here's the long awaited chapter. You probably did not expect me to update. Admittedly, I did not really expect I was going to update it myself. I've had a really busy past year. Most of my writing was dedicated to stories I've been writing with my writing partner Nyhlus. I never really felt like I had time to really spend on this story. It's hard to believe that it was over a year ago that I updated.

Over the summer, I received a number of nice reviews. It spurred me to re-look at the story, and at least try to bring Nott's story to a conclusion. I hope that it fits. I was a little afraid that coming back to the story after such a long time would complicate things, and make it difficult to reconnect with the characters. I hope it fits in the story and does not feel out of place. I hope those who have been waiting find it to be a satisfying conclusion.

Technically, there is one more chapter in the story. It will be a framing chapter such as the first one. I hope to actually write it, and bring this story to a complete close. However, it might take me a long time to write it. Hopefully it will not take a year, but I do not see myself having a chance to tackle it until December.

Since the next chapter will be the final chapter, if you have any questions about the story, then I will answer them then. I hope to do a bit of a debrief about my experience writing it.

If you liked this story, please check out my other Hermione/Nott stories. I've written about 7 other shorter stories. I'm the most proud of my story _A Dedication_, but they are all good.

I want to give a heartfelt thank you to all of the readers and reviewers. I would not have continued this story without your constant support. This story is quite personal to me, but it feels really special to have shared it with all of you. There's no better feeling than knowing that you have read and appreciated this flawed story of mine. Thank you so much.

Anyways, that's all I have to say.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


End file.
